


Many Thanks

by Lady_Clara



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Cooking, Dancing, Everyone Can See Dimitri Is In Love With Dedue, First Kiss, Flowers, Happy Ending, Love Confessions, M/M, Post-Blue Lions Route (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), Post-War, Sewing, There are a few background ships but Dimitri/Dedue is the main focus, This Is Just Very Sweet and Soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-20
Updated: 2019-12-31
Packaged: 2021-02-18 08:41:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 22,498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21841387
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_Clara/pseuds/Lady_Clara
Summary: Once the war ends, Dimitri makes it his mission to thank everyone who has helped him restore peace to Fódlan. But simple words seem so inadequate when it comes to thanking Dedue, the man who has saved him time and time again. Fortunately, his friends and allies are there to give him advice on how to make Dedue feel duly appreciated.
Relationships: Catherine/Shamir Nevrand (background), Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Dedue Molinaro, Dorothea Arnault/Petra Macneary (background), Felix Hugo Fraldarius/Sylvain Jose Gautier (background)
Comments: 38
Kudos: 82





	1. Words From the Heart

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for clicking on this fic! I fell hard for Fire Emblem: Three Houses, and I was very moved by the love and devotion we got to see Dimitri and Dedue share in the Blue Lions route. This story takes place after the war once things have settled a bit and Dimitri can take the time to express his gratitude to his friends - especially Dedue - for helping him along the way.
> 
> As marked in the tags, there are a few background ships: Sylvain/Felix and Catherine/Shamir in Chapter 3 and Dorothea/Petra in Chapter 5. Throughout the story, however, the main focus is on Dimitri/Dedue. 
> 
> While I do appreciate the serious tone of Fire Emblem: Three Houses and the heavy material it covers, I wanted to write something a little softer and sweeter. I hope you enjoy!

The end of the too-long war sees Dimitri crowned king of a newly united Fódlan and thrusts him into a frenzy of paperwork, transitions of power, and governmental reforms. He implements plans to send aid to those throughout the land still suffering the effects of the war, figures out how to improve foreign relations, draws up a campaign to rebuild Duscur, and tries to meet directly with the citizens and visitors of Faerghus as often as he can to listen to their grievances and needs. It is arduous work, but it is important to him that he not sit idly while there are things he can do to better the lives of those he now rules.

There is something, however, he desperately wants to do but has not yet had the proper time to accomplish: personally thanking those who helped him end the war, those who saved him from his enemies _and_ himself. In a moment of quiet while he is alone at a desk poring over new legislation, his mind begins to wander making a mental list of everyone he needs to thank. He wants them to know how much he appreciates them and how instrumental they have been in helping Fódlan get back on its feet.

His stream of consciousness leads him to thoughts of Dedue. He remembers the conversation he had with him during the war, telling him how he proudly bears his scars from the Tragedy of Duscur because they remind him of saving Dedue. He remembers telling Dedue, out loud, that he sees him as “irreplaceable. Cherished.” _Those were true words from the heart, but they were quite bold_ , Dimitri thinks. _Still, Dedue listened and did not look appalled by my language. He even said my given name that day instead of referring to me as 'Your Highness.' I do not think I simply imagined the rose-colored flush that graced his features then._

He sets that thought aside to instead focus on how he is going to thank Dedue for his service – for everything, really. What words would even suffice for all that Dedue has done for Dimitri? He still can’t believe how lucky he is that Dedue is alive – those long years without him, when he thought he had lost him forever, were agony. But those days are in the past, and he knows he needs to turn his gaze now to a brighter future.

The brighter future he first imagines involves him and Dedue holding hands. Those strong, calloused hands that are always so gentle when tending to the greenhouse plants or Dimitri’s injuries. He imagines the two of them together, doing something nice for the children of Fódlan, such as teaching them horseback riding or planting a communal herb garden like Dimitri and Dedue did in Fhirdiad after the Tragedy of Duscur. He imagines kissing the scar that runs along Dedue’s cheek and thanking him every day for being by his side.

Dimitri slams his quill down and covers his eye with his hand, feeling his face heat up. He has always treasured Dedue, but when did his feelings start leaning towards something romantic? He has never had these kinds of uncharted feelings for anyone before, and he certainly does not want them to ruin the special bond he already shares with Dedue. _But what if Dedue is harboring similar feelings? Ugh,_ _Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd, get ahold of yourself,_ he shouts internally.

Taking a break from the document he has been reading knowing his mind is putting forth too many distractions for him to dedicate the full attention the words on the paper merit, he decides to no longer put off thanking his friends and allies, and he sets out to find them around the castle so he can finally express the gratitude they deserve to hear. Dedue especially.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! I hope you like where this goes :)


	2. Gentle Hands

Dimitri knocks on the old wooden door belonging to one of the rooms in the wing of the castle they are using as a makeshift infirmary while Kingdom soldiers recover from the war. “Come in!” a kind voice speaks from the other side.

“Pardon my intrusion,” Dimitri says as he opens the door and walks into the entryway of a room serving as a waiting area. There, Mercedes is hard at work organizing jars of what appear to be healing salves while Annette balances a tea set in one hand and a plate of cookies in the other. They both seem to have their hands full, figuratively and literally. “I can come back another time if you are busy.”

Mercedes gets up from the table she is working at and wipes her hands on her apron. “That’s quite alright, Dimitri. It’s always nice to see you.”

“I just brought some tea and cookies for Mercie since she’s been working so hard and could use a break,” Annette says as she lifts her trays a little higher. “You could use one, too! Join us!”

“I do not wish to interrupt,” Dimitri says. He walks into the room a bit more. “I just came here to thank you both.” He touches his hand to his heart and bows slightly. “Mercedes, you are the reason so many of us are still alive. You have healed us on and off the battlefield, and I want you to know how much I appreciate the remarkable work you are doing tending to everyone’s remaining injuries. If I can aid you in any way, please let me know.”

Mercedes looks taken aback at first, but her eyes soon soften. “Oh, Dimitri.” She crosses the room and takes Dimitri’s hands in hers, looking visibly moved. “It is so kind of you to say that. I want to continue healing the people of Fódlan, and I’m glad to do so under the rule of a compassionate king. Just promise me we’ll help those across the continent who are still suffering.”

Dimitri nods. “Absolutely. You have my word that we will do all we can to help those this war has hurt.” He turns to Annette next and bows again. He was happy to hear that Annette planned to stay in Fhirdiad to become a teacher at the capital city’s well-known school of sorcery. “Annette, your soon-to-be students are lucky to be under your tutelage. When I was in a dark place, my morale was so low, and I did nothing to inspire morale in our troops. You lifted everyone’s spirits with your cheerfulness and your happy songs. Without you, we would have all been miserable, and we would have had no will to march on. You restored our determination and made us all smile with your joyful singing.”

“Aww, Dimitri!” Annette looks away bashfully for a moment, then smiles up at him. “Just say the word and I’ll sing anytime for anyone!” She extends one arm to hold out the tray of cookies so they’re closer to Dimitri. “Want one? Dedue helped me make them, so you know they’re good.”

Hearing Dedue’s name makes Dimitri’s heart jump. He takes a moment before he speaks again. “May I be so bold as to ask for your advice on something a bit…personal?”

“Duh!” Annette puts the trays down on a table and gestures for Dimitri to sit at one of the chairs around it as she takes a seat across from him. Mercedes nods and takes a seat next to Annette.

Dimitri draws a breath and elaborates. “I want to do something special for Dedue to thank him for everything he has done for me all these years, but I am at a loss for what that should be. It needs to be something meaningful.”

“Sing him a song!” Annette pipes in through a cookie-filled mouth.

Dimitri chuckles. “Unfortunately, Annette, I’m afraid my singing would be more of a punishment than a reward.”

Mercedes takes a thoughtful sip from her teacup. “Remember when we were students at Garreg Mach and I gave you sewing lessons? Dedue appreciates needlework, so why don’t you embroider something for him?”

Mercedes always gives good advice. “That is a spectacular idea," Dimitri says, but he also thinks back to how many sewing needles he unintentionally destroyed when she gave him lessons at the academy. "Unfortunately, we all know how uncoordinated I am with a needle and thread.”

Mercedes shakes her head. “The more you try, the better at it you’ll get. I’m positive it would make Dedue happy. And Annette and I can help you. In fact, I like to do needlework during breaks, so I have my sewing supplies here. Do you have time now to begin a project?”

“Yes.” Dimitri sighs. “I will try my best, but do not say I did not warn you.”

Mercedes and Annette both laugh.

“Hey, if your morale gets too low, I can always sing to cheer you up!”

* * *

“I am hopeless.” Dimitri hunches his shoulders in shame. “This is the fourth needle I’ve bent this morning.” He stares at the damaged sewing supplies in his hands and the ugly tangle of thread he attempted to stitch into the embroidery hoop sitting on his lap. It’s as if the needle and thread are enemies on the other side of the battlefield mocking his lack of skill.

“Cheer up, Dimitri,” Annette says with a grin. “It’s better than the time you bent ten needles in the span of only twenty minutes!”

“Very encouraging, Annette,” Dimitri quips, but laughs in spite of himself.

“Perhaps embroidery is a bit too tricky for a beginner,” Mercedes notes. She pauses her own sewing and looks pensive for a moment. “I have a solution.” She places her embroidery hoop on the table, gathers Dimitri’s and Annette’s and sets theirs next to hers, then rummages through her supply bag until she pulls out three sticks with hooked ends that are longer and thicker than the needles they’ve been working with. She hands one to Dimitri, one to Annette, and keeps one for herself. Retaking her seat next to Dimitri, she holds up her tools and explains. “These are crochet hooks. They’re much sturdier and easier to use than sewing needles, so they’re less likely to break. Let’s use them to crochet a nice scarf for Dedue.”

Annette claps her hands together. “That’s a wonderful idea, Mercie! Dedue is always wearing a scarf these days. I bet he would love to wear one made by you, Dimitri.”

Dimitri feels his face heat up as he pictures Dedue adorning his neck with a scarf Dimitri fashioned. It all sounds so intimate, so nerve-wracking to think about. But he realizes his friends are right, and Dedue wears a scarf often nowadays, so it would be nice to gift him one he can add to his collection. “That all sounds brilliant to me. You two truly are perceptive. I’ll be sure to tell Dedue you helped me greatly in this endeavor.” Mercedes and Annette smile back at him encouragingly, and he lifts up his crochet hook as if picking up a new weapon for the first time. “Now, I have no clue how to begin this, so I am grateful for your guidance.”

* * *

A few hours after receiving Mercedes’s thorough instructions and working in companionable silence (with Annette humming from time to time), Dimitri is crocheting a basic single-color scarf that has turned out surprisingly well so far. He chose a teal color to represent Duscur, which he didn’t realize until halfway through is a color that matches Dedue’s eyes, and he plans to pin a gold lion brooch to it to match the gold of the earring Dedue often wears and to remind him of their time as Lions at the academy.

He reaches a point where he gets comfortable enough with the crocheting motions that he does not need to concentrate so hard, so his mind begins to drift, and he involuntarily conjures up memories of Dedue carefully patching up Dimitri’s clothes after they tore during training matches. He would painstakingly stitch everything back together, no matter how great or little the damage, much like he could always stitch Dimitri back together after all the times Dimitri felt his inner demons eating him alive. “His hands are so gentle…”

Dimitri doesn’t realize he has said that last part out loud until he sees from the corner of his good eye Annette putting her own project down and tilting her head to the side. “Go on,” she says with a big smirk on her face.

“Forgive me,” Dimitri begins. “My mind was wandering to all the times I saw Dedue so carefully mending clothes, and planting flowers, and artfully arranging plates of food. It is amazing that those same hands that can wield the heaviest of battle axes are so gentle in all other aspects of life.”

“You should try holding them sometimes,” Annette says, and winks.

“Annie!” Mercedes chides playfully, and Dimitri can feel himself choke on air. “You’re right, Dimitri,” she continues. “Dedue has a very gentle soul, and gentle hands to go with it. I’m sure he would be thrilled if you joined him in his needlework projects every now and then.”

“We should have needlework parties!” Annette chimes in. “How fun would that be?”

Dimitri admires their enthusiasm. Many times, Dedue has mentioned his enjoyment of needlework, so Dimitri can easily envision him sitting between Mercedes and Annette sewing something with a soft smile on his face. “I am sure he would appreciate that,” he replies. He imagines sitting next to Dedue, stitching clothes for orphans displaced by the war, crocheting scarves for the palace guards to wear in the cold Faerghus winters, embroidering decorations for a home… _their_ home, as Dimitri visualizes it…designing matching cloaks suitable for a wedding… _oh_ …Dimitri feels like such a hopeless romantic.

“I think that’s the perfect length,” Mercedes says, jolting him out of his reverie. “I’ll teach you how to finish a scarf, and then you’ll have a lovely gift to show your appreciation.”

“I am grateful to both of you for your help,” Dimitri says as he nods at Mercedes and Annette. “I would not have been able to do this without you.” He realizes he has been so focused on his own project that he has not asked Mercedes or Annette what they have been working on these past few hours. “Forgive my rudeness. I’ve failed to inquire about your works.”

Annette holds up the spherically shaped object she has been crocheting. “I made a pink tea cozy with a purple flower design for Mercie since she likes those colors and she loves tea!”

“And I’m in the process of making a purse for Annie to use when she goes out into town,” Mercedes says. “She has the cutest collection of purses.”

Dimitri smiles at how thoughtful they are. “They are both lovely. I am sure the intended recipients will treasure them.” That wins him a laugh from the duo.

“Speaking of gift recipients,” Annette begins. “When are you going to give the scarf to Dedue?” She beams and stomps her feet excitedly. “Ooh, I can’t wait to see his reaction! You have to tell me where you’re meeting with him so I can hide around the corner and watch!”

Making a scarf was a bit of a challenge for Dimitri, but actually gifting it is a bigger challenge yet. The thought of actually presenting it to Dedue makes him nervous. “That is a good question, Annette. Before I do so, I have to work up the courage.”

“ _Courage_?” Annette parrots back at him. “You’re, like, the most courageous person I know! You’ve faced countless enemies on the battlefield head-on!”

“The battlefield is one thing,” Dimitri says as Mercedes assists him in completing his scarf. “This,” he gestures vaguely in the air, crochet hook still in hand, “is far scarier territory.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When I was a kid, I found that using a crochet hook was a little easier than using knitting or sewing needles, so I figured crocheting might be a more suitable pursuit for Dimitri. Goodness knows the Blaiddyd Crest doesn't make it easy for this poor man to handle delicate objects, as canon tells us, but he always tries his best!


	3. A Room Full of Love-Struck Fools

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warnings for this chapter: non-graphic depictions of injuries and brief descriptions of violence that occurred during the war. Not anything major, but wanted to include the warnings just in case.

After crocheting, Mercedes tells Dimitri he can find Felix, Sylvain, Catherine, and Shamir together in one of the rooms of the makeshift infirmary. Sylvain and Catherine had both sustained bad injuries on the battlefield and had been put on bed rest, but Dimitri had not heard news of Felix or Shamir suffering from any grave wounds. So, he heads down a corridor to the room Mercedes said they were in with the intention of seeing how they are doing and thanking them for their efforts.

He walks in with an “excuse the interruption,” and the scene in front of him makes it abundantly clear that Felix and Shamir are not there to be treated for any injuries. On one side of the room, Catherine is sitting up on a bed with her whole sword arm bandaged up, shoulder to fingers, while Shamir is standing at her side spoon-feeding her soup. Thunderbrand has been placed alongside Catherine on the bed. _She never parts with that sword,_ Dimitri thinks fondly. On the other side of the room, Sylvain is laying down on a bed, his leg bandaged and the sheen of healing salves covering bruises on his side. But the most surprising part of Sylvain is his left hand, which is being held in what looks like the tightest two-handed grip by none other than Felix. Felix glances up at Dimitri when he enters the room, but immediately turns a dark shade of red and whips his head away to stare at the floor instead.

“Heyyy, a visit from the king himself!” Sylvain says energetically, seeming very much himself, which is a relief to Dimitri. “What’s up, Your Majesty?”

Dimitri feels a bit awkward just standing at the doorway, but is hesitant to enter the room further since it does not seem like anyone was expecting company, so he stays puts at the entrance. “I came here to see how everyone was faring, and to personally thank you for your efforts in protecting Fódlan.”

Catherine huffs a laugh. “Don’t mention it. You think I’d ever back down from a fight?”

“Okay, tough guy, finish your soup,” Shamir says as she sticks another spoonful in Catherine’s mouth.

Dimitri takes a small step into the room. “This was not any normal fight,” he replies. “I am grateful to you all for lending me your strength and putting your own lives on the line for the Kingdom. You are some of the most excellent fighters I have had the pleasure of knowing.”

Sylvain throws up a dismissive hand. “Enough with the praise, Dimitri. You’re making me blush. Only Felix is allowed to do that these days.” He winks.

Next to Sylvain, Felix turns an even deeper shade of red and squares his shoulders, muttering a quiet but firm “shut up” in the direction of the floor.

Dimitri worries more and more the longer he looks at Sylvain’s and Catherine’s injuries. “What exactly…happened on the battlefield that put you in the infirmary, if you do not mind me asking?”

Sylvain gently pats his bandaged leg. “Saw a bowman aiming at Felix, Felix didn’t see him, I jumped in front of him, an arrow hit my leg, took a nasty spill off my horse, the usual war stuff.” He laughs. “Ingrid gave us a stern lecture about making better decisions in battle when she saw Felix carrying me to a healer.” Felix says and does nothing, just continues holding Sylvain’s hand in his own and looking at the floor with furrowed brows.

Dimitri sighs, yet again thinking about how much he abhors war and all the horrors like this that come with it. “Thank you for protecting our countrymen out there. I hope I never have to ask any of you to raise your weapons like that again.”

“As long as I get paid, I don’t really care,” Shamir claims. “But I better be paid double if I’m partnered up with _this_ one again.” She jabs the spoon in Catherine’s direction.

“Oh yeah?” Catherine begins. “Let me tell you what happened on the battlefield, Dimitri. I’m swinging Thunderbrand with all the skill of a practiced swordsman, when out of nowhere a spear pierces my sword arm, and Thunderbrand falls to the ground. I thought I was a goner, but then I remembered – right before we marched into Enbarr, Shamir proposed to me!”

“That’s not what happened,” Shamir interrupts, annoyance creeping up on her usually stoic features. “Catherine was getting all emotional about how our partnership would end once the war ended, so I told her she could marry me if she was so desperate to keep me at her side.”

“Sounds like a marriage proposal to me,” Sylvain comments.

“Anyway,” Catherine continues, “I picked myself back up and said, ‘Not today, Death. I might have a wedding to plan!’ And then I roundhouse kicked that lancer right in the face.”

“She’s prone to embellishment,” Shamir deadpans.

Catherine seems unfazed and goes on. “Then I must have fainted, ‘cause next thing I know, I’m waking up in arms that look like they belong to a very capable archer. I look up, and I see Shamir looking down at me, and – get this – she was crying! Real tears!”

“Thanks for the details, Catherine. You left out the part where you looked up at me and groggily said, quote, ‘You’re even more beautiful than Thunderbrand.’”

Dimitri tries to stifle a laugh, but fails. He is overcome with happiness at the easy banter between these battle-hardened people who seem to care so much about one another, even if they don’t express it in conventional ways.

“I’m jealous,” Sylvain admits. “I doubt Felix would ever tell me I’m more beautiful than his swords. I’ll always come second to his collection.”

Felix sulks even lower in his seat and murmurs, “I hate this entire conversation.”

“Catherine’s lucky I was actually alive to save her,” Shamir adds. “An Imperial soldier almost got me, but Dedue jumped in and got him first. He said ‘I will carve a path for His Highness’ and ran off.”

There goes Dimitri’s butterfly-filled stomach again. Dedue, such a solid presence in his life, always so dedicated and doing everything he can to help Dimitri achieve his goals. Doing everything he can to help Dimitri stay alive. His heart hurts thinking about it. He has to do as many special things as he can to show Dedue just how cherished he is.

“Sayyy, Dimitri.” Catherine grins. “What’s with that look on your face?”

“You’re a love-struck fool like the rest of us, huh?” Sylvain quips with a wink.

“I…” Dimitri protests, but has no idea how to continue that sentence, so he stands there uncomfortably in silence.

Shamir crosses her arms and shakes her head. “I can’t tell who in this room is the biggest lovesick mess.”

“My money’s on the swordsman over there,” Catherine says brightly, chin pointing towards Felix.

“Mine too,” Sylvain agrees.

“Do you want to have another near-death experience, Sylvain?” Felix snaps with an angry glare. Sylvain just laughs and brings his hand to his lips so he can kiss the back of one of Felix’s hands wrapped around it.

Dimitri feels like he has intruded on the intimacy between the two pairs long enough, so he is ready to excuse himself. “Once more, thank you for all you have done to usher in an era of peace, and I wish you a swift recovery. Should you need anything, please come to me. I may be king now, but my goal is for us to all feel like equals in Fódlan.” He bows lightly, turns, and takes a step out the door.

“Boar!”

Dimitri turns on his heel so quickly that his cloak billows audibly behind him. This is the first time Felix has addressed him directly since he stood in the doorway. Felix’s serious-looking eyes are fixed on Dimitri until he looks down in embarrassment.

“No – Dimitri,” Felix corrects. Recently, Felix has been replacing his usual ‘boar’ nickname with Dimitri’s real name. Dimitri is grateful for the switch.

Felix appears to take a moment to collect his thoughts before he looks up at Dimitri again. “Stop living to serve the wishes of the dead.” Those words chill Dimitri to the core. “If someone’s alive and they mean something to you, tell them.” He gives a quick glance to Sylvain’s injured body. “Before it’s too late.”

Dimitri knows Felix is right. As children in Faerghus, they were raised to carry the burden of idealized chivalry on their backs at all times. It left so many of them feeling selfish for having their own desires and wanting to achieve their own dreams. He thinks of parents obsessing over children passing on their Crests to ensure their families’ profits and prestige. Ingrid, torn between her father’s goal of marrying her off to a husband at the right price, which she has expressed no desire to do, and her own goal of becoming a knight. Sylvain, whose Crest-less brother treated him with such spite. Felix, who was expected to celebrate his brother Glenn’s “chivalrous” death rather than mourn him in sadness.

And Dimitri, who spent too many years hearing the voices of the dead beg for vengeance, and who has spent his whole life trying to live by virtues he’s not even sure he agrees with. He asks himself for once what he really wants, of his own accord. He wants to be a good king who treats people with kindness and compassion. He wants to improve the laws of the land so everyone, Crest-bearer or not, is treated fairly. He wants people to know how grateful he is for what they have done for him. Especially Dedue. He wants Dedue to finally see him as an equal. And he wants Dedue to know that he is loved.

“Wow,” Sylvain says, before Dimitri gets too lost in his own mind. “You know you need to check yourself when _Felix_ accuses you of being less open with your feelings than _he_ is.” Felix wrenches his hands off of Sylvain’s at that comment. “Aw, come on, Felix.” Sylvain chuckles. “I was just joking!”

Dimitri smiles. “That is the best advice I have heard in a long time. Thank you, Felix. I know what I must do.” And he feels even more determination now to achieve that goal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I loved that A+ support conversation between Catherine and Shamir where Shamir basically says they can just get married if they want to stay together. And the A+ support between Felix and Sylvain was really heartfelt, too. The support conversations in general were my favorite parts of the game - I loved how they showcased so many great character dynamics!


	4. Important Missions

Dimitri’s next stop is the stables. With so many members of the Kingdom’s military having specialized in mounted combat throughout its history, horses have always been important to Faerghus’s culture, so Dimitri wants to thank the two women who have raised and cared for the horses and pegasi that helped lead the Kingdom to victory. He finds one brushing the mane of a healthy looking mare and one wrapping a bandage around another horse’s knee.

“Hello, Ingrid. Marianne.”

They both spin around looking a little startled at his voice, Ingrid dropping into an immediate bow and Marianne following suit.

“Your Majesty!” Ingrid greets. “Is there something we can help you with? I’m happy to report the horses are well on their way to recovery after the battle.”

“I am glad to hear that,” Dimitri replies. He walks over to one of the horses and gives it a gentle pat. “I came here to thank you both for your dedication in seeing to it that all of the horses and pegasi are tended to. They are as important to Faerghus as the people are. And you have both done an extraordinary job not only in caring for them.” He faces Marianne and puts a hand over his heart. “Marianne, you were able to lead your horse Dorte swiftly to those who got injured on the battlefield so you could heal them. You have saved many lives.”

Marianne clasps her hands behind her back and looks down at her feet. “Um…it was nothing. I am happy you and the others are safe.”

Even though they were in two separate houses back at the academy, Dimitri had developed a great fondness for Marianne whenever their stable duties coincided. They quickly found they had many similarities – both enjoyed long rides, were very hard on themselves, and were deeply affected by the pain and suffering of others. So he felt they shared a special bond, one he hopes will continue now that Marianne has decided to stay in Fhirdiad to take care of the horses in her newly appointed position of Royal Stable Master. Seeing the big smile that went all the way up to Marianne's eyes when he offered her the title had warmed Dimitri's heart. 

“You have my thanks.” Next, he turns to Ingrid. “And Ingrid, what you achieved wielding a lance while expertly flying a pegasus led us to victory. You are the picture of knighthood.”

Dimitri has known Ingrid since childhood and knows ‘knighthood’ is her favorite word. She has always been one of the most steadfast and loyal fighters, and seeing what she can do with a sword or lance, Dimitri feels lucky that she has always been on his side of a battle.

“Thank you, Your Majesty,” Ingrid says cheerfully. “Your words bring me much joy.” She resumes running a brush through the mane of the horse she had been grooming before Dimitri's arrival. “I was just about to take Lady here out for a ride. Care to join?”

“As long as it is not an imposition, I would enjoy that very much,” Dimitri answers.

“Not an imposition at all.” Ingrid puts the brush down and gets Lady ready for a ride. “Marianne, would you like to come along?”

Marianne shakes her head and puts a hand on the flank of the horse with the bandaged knee. “You two go ahead. I’m going to continue working on dressing Claudius’s wounds.”

“Claudius?” Dimitri inquires.

Marianne nods and looks up at the horse with fondness. “When we saw Claude in Derdriu, he told me we could never lose if we named a horse after him.”

Dimitri and Ingrid both laugh. “Sounds like Claude, alright,” Dimitri comments.

Marianne looks hesitant. “Um, Dimitri…I’m sure Dorte would like some exercise, so if you’d like to, you can ride him.”

Marianne has told Dimitri before that she considers Dorte the horse her best friend, so he knows this is a very special request. “I would be happy to,” he answers.

Marianne’s face lights up. “Okay. I’ll bring him over to you.” She goes into one of the stables and leads Dorte over by the reins and puts a saddle on him, ushering him towards Dimitri. “Dorte, this is King Dimitri.” She hands Dimitri the reins. “I know he will treat you well, so be good to him too, okay, Dorte?”

Dorte neighs as Dimitri pets him. “May I?” he asks as he adjusts to hoist himself up. Dorte seems fine, and Marianne looks delighted, so he lifts his leg over and takes his seat on the saddle. “I promise I will take good care of you, Dorte.”

“We won’t be long, Marianne,” Ingrid says as she gets herself positioned onto her horse. “I’ll help with whatever you need when we get back.”

Marianne nods. “Be safe.”

* * *

Dimitri and Ingrid agree to take Dorte and Lady at a slow pace through the expansive open fields of the castle grounds that are popular for horseback riding. With the sun beginning to set, the grass and the neighboring green forests are tinged gold. Sitting up straight atop the horse and cast in golden light, Ingrid looks like a heroic knight right out of one of the picture books Dimitri read as a child. They ride in comfortable silence, checking in on the horses’ wellbeing from time to time, until Dimitri feels like he has enough of a hold on Dorte to focus on initiating conversation.

“Ingrid, I must ask you,” he begins. “Is knighthood the path you truly wish to follow? Or is it the path someone else wants you to take?” He doesn’t like the way he phrased that, so he elaborates. “I ask this because those of us raised in Faerghus seem to have an obsession with chivalry and serving the wishes of others, especially authority figures like parents and royalty.”

He looks over at Ingrid, who smiles softly, but casts her eyes down wistfully. “My father wanted me to do nothing more than marry a man who belonged to an affluent, prominent family so I could bring my own family wealth and give birth to Crest-bearing children. When I was born, that man happened to be Glenn.”

Dimitri knows it has always been difficult for Ingrid to invoke Glenn’s name, always difficult for anyone to bring him up in conversation. So he takes extra care to show he is listening.

Ingrid continues. “It’s true that I loved Glenn, in the way that Ashe idolizes the knights in the storybooks he lends me. But I was just a child. Now that I’m older, I know that’s not the path I want to follow. I don’t have any interest in falling in love or getting married. I respect those who do, but that kind of life just isn’t for me.” She looks toward the horizon with conviction. “I want to be a knight. That’s the path I’ve chosen for myself of my own accord. I want to protect the royal family, and the Kingdom, and all those who inhabit it.” She blushes and looks to the side. “It actually makes me really happy to say that out loud.”

Dimitri smiles. He would expect nothing less from Ingrid, so he has been looking forward to saying this: “I am glad to hear you say that, too, Knight Commander.”

Ingrid’s horse neighs as she halts it. Dimitri halts his a moment later and turns to face her, seeing her brows drawn in confusion. “Knight Commander?” she repeats back. “I’m not...”

Dimitri trots Dorte back a bit so he is face-to-face with her. “Ingrid, I was the luckiest prince in the world to have you on my side in battle. Your strength and your determination are unparalleled.” She continues staring back at him with wide green eyes. “So I would be the luckiest king in the world to have you commanding our knights, should you wish to accept the title.”

Ingrid looks from Dimitri to somewhere off in the distance, opening her mouth and then closing it again as if she can’t figure out what to say. She finally speaks when she looks at Dimitri again. “Your Majesty. This is an appointment I never could have imagined.” She gives a small laugh and looks away. “Well, if I’m being honest, I _have_ imagined this. Several times. But under the circumstances, I didn’t think it would ever be possible.” She makes eye contact again and smiles. “Now that it’s real, my words are failing me.” Touching her hand to her heart, she gives Dimitri the most determined look he has ever seen from her. “Your Majesty. With all my heart, I accept. I swear to you I will lead our troops with honor and dignity.”

“I never doubted that for a second.” Dimitri extends his hand, and Ingrid reaches out to shake it. “We will set a date for a formal appointment ceremony. I am glad to have you on board, Knight Commander Galatea.” The setting sun highlights the rosy glow dusting Ingrid’s cheeks.

They continue riding with the comforting sounds of hooves hitting the ground and leaves rustling from the nearby forest until Ingrid breaks the silence.

“Can I make a request for my first…well, first and second missions as Knight Commander?” she asks.

“Of course."

Ingrid takes a breath, and Dimitri sees that her expression has become quite serious. “Undoubtedly, the knights need to first deliver aid to the areas of Fódlan that have been badly affected by the war. I don’t want anyone starving or lacking necessary medical assistance.”

“I very much agree,” Dimitri says. “You have my full support. And the second mission?”

"I know you and Dedue have been drawing up plans for the rebuilding of Duscur. But you two shouldn't have to do it alone. I would like to lead the knights in helping you achieve that endeavor." 

It’s Dimitri’s turn to stop his horse, thoughts going straight to Dedue and every hardship he has had to endure because of the Tragedy of Duscur. Ingrid stops as well and trots closer to him.

“We need to repair our relationship with them and help them rebuild their territory,” she explains, and then lowers her eyes in sorrow. “The people who are left, at least. We know now they had nothing to do with…" She purses her lips. "...with the regicide. Yet there is still so much prejudice against them.” She takes another deep breath. “I would know. I was one of the people who held them in unjustified contempt. I was so overcome with rage and grief back then.” She sits up straighter. “They’ve suffered for too long. I want to be part of making things right.”

“Ingrid…” is all Dimitri is capable of saying for a few breaths. “Aiding in the revitalization of Duscur is an initiative I consider with great importance. I am glad to hear you give voice to it as well. I will be involved every step of the way, and I will ask Dedue how best we can help moving forward. I promised him long ago that I would do everything I could to help Duscur and its people, and I intend to keep that promise.”

"I heard you're looking for ways to thank him for all he has done," Ingrid responds. "The best gift you could give him is to mend what has transpired between Faerghus and Duscur. He deserves better. The people of Duscur deserve better.” Her hands holding the horse's reigns ball up in determination. "The knights can help you. It would be an honor to lead them in this." 

Dimitri realizes how fortunate he is to be in a position now where he can make sure this happens. “I think this will all make Dedue very happy,” he says. “I want to see him smiling again.” Dimitri thinks back again to the first time in years Dedue called him by his given name, a small smile on his face accompanied by a blush Dimitri is certain he did not imagine.

He notices a rare mischievous smile slowly make its way across Ingrid’s face. “I think this will benefit _both_ of you in the long run,” she comments. “Once Duscur-Faerghus relations are settled, you and Dedue can tackle what seems to be the hardest mission of all without worrying about political ramifications.”

Dimitri doesn’t follow. “What mission is that?”

Ingrid’s mischievous smile grows even wider, and Dimitri has no idea what to make of it. “Finally confessing your love to each other,” she says, and with that, she rides off.

Dimitri sits there with his mouth open, frozen in shock, as he watches Ingrid's back get farther and farther away. Before he can get lost in a tumultuous wave of thoughts, he nudges Dorte and tries to catch up to Ingrid. “What was that, Knight Commander?” he calls out to her, but she just laughs several paces in front of him.

Riding back to the stables, he shakes his head. “Oh, Dorte. Are my private feelings that obvious?”

Dorte simply neighs in response.

* * *

“Thank you for allowing me to take Dorte out,” Dimitri says as he sets a slower pace for the horse to trot back to the stables. Marianne is helping Ingrid dismount when he approaches. “He is a wonderful horse indeed. Though that is no surprise, since he has a wonderful caretaker.”

Marianne smiles at that and takes Dorte’s reigns. “I can tell he likes you.”

As Dimitri dismounts, he notices a gold adornment in a familiar shape attached to Dorte’s saddle. He takes it between his fingers and surveys it. “Is this…?”

Marianne nods. “Dedue made it. Before the war, I told him I was worried I would bring bad luck to the cavalry, so he gave me this Duscur-style brooch and told me to think of it as a good luck charm.”

Dimitri’s heart just about melts. “Dedue is a very thoughtful friend.”

“Yes, he is.” Marianne purses her lips and looks down. “Um…should you and Dedue ever need horses for an official ceremony, like a big celebration, o-or a wedding, I would be happy to help the horses prepare for it.”

It takes Dimitri a moment to understand what she is saying, and once he does, he can feel his eye go wide. He is completely speechless at the implication. He notices Ingrid out of the corner of his eye putting a fist in front of her mouth to stifle laughter. And then he can’t help but picture himself and Dedue trotting into their wedding ceremony on horseback, Dorte whinnying as they exchange rings, and he has to steady himself before his legs give out.

Marianne gasps in what must be dawning horror at what she has said aloud. “I didn’t mean…I’m sorry if I…oh no, that was so rude of me to assume, I–” 

Dimitri knows Marianne is going to spiral into self-loathing (he is all too familiar with that himself) if he doesn’t say something immediately, so he puts a reassuring hand on Marianne’s shoulder and gives her a smile. “It is quite alright, Marianne. I appreciate the offer. If that day comes, I know I can count on you.” He laughs. “But as the expression goes, let us not put the cart before the horse.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Marianne is one of my favorite characters and I love her support conversations with Dimitri, so I really wanted to include her in this fic. And I'm a sucker for storylines like Ingrid's that show the struggle between wanting to pursue your own goals outside of tradition and also wanting to please your family. Plus, I think Marianne and Ingrid would bond over being the game's resident Horse Girls :)


	5. Learning to Waltz

Dimitri knocks on the door to a guestroom that currently belongs to Dorothea and hears a slightly labored “Come in!” from the other side.

“You sound busy,” he says without looking inside. “I can visit at a more convenient time.”

A smiling Dorothea wrenches the door open, and he almost falters into the room. “Nonsense. I would never turn away good company.” She takes one of his hands in hers and pulls him inside.

Dimitri can’t help but notice the state of her room. There are clothes and items strewn around the floor, the desk, and inside a large piece of luggage on her bed. In one corner of the room stands another familiar face rummaging through Dorothea’s closet.

“Oh, hello, Petra,” Dimitri says. “I apologize for not greeting you sooner. I did not know you would be here. And to you, Dorothea, thank you for accepting my company.”

“Ignore the mess,” Dorothea says, seeming slightly embarrassed. “I’m packing my belongings because…well, Petra invited me to move to Brigid with her, and I’ve accepted. She’s helping me figure out what I should take with me.”

Dimitri is sad to hear they are leaving. He knew of Petra’s goals and the throne waiting for her in Brigid, but he had grown close to her and Dorothea throughout the years since they switched into his house at the academy. “Then I must bid you safe travels,” he says. “Though we will deeply miss you both here in Fhirdiad.”

Petra stops picking through Dorothea’s closet and walks over to Dimitri. “King Dimitri,” she begins. “I would like to be talking with you to discuss an important matter. As queen of Brigid, I would like to declare independence from Fódlan. I would like for Fódlan and Brigid to be friends, but on more equal terms.”

There is much conviction in Petra’s voice. Dimitri had a feeling Petra would want this for her people, and with her having been enrolled in the academy as a hostage of the Empire, he understands her completely. “Of course. I would be happy to help you with that initiative. And I too would like for Fódlan and Brigid to be friends.” He smiles. “Brigid is lucky to have you as its queen.”

Petra relaxes her shoulders, looking relieved. “Thank you, King Dimitri.”

“Actually, I came here to thank _you_. Well, to thank Dorothea, but I am glad you are here too since I was going to stop by your room next.”

Dorothea stops packing. “Thank us for what?”

As he has been doing, Dimitri puts his hand on his heart and bows. “I wanted to thank you both for lending the Kingdom your strength in the war. I can only imagine how difficult it must have been since you were both in the Black Eagles house once.” He does not want to dwell on the past too much since that will make all three of them spiral into sadness, so he continues. “Petra, thank you for sharing Brigid’s culture with all of us, and for commanding a wyvern with great skill on the battlefield. Dorothea, thank you for your using your talents in magic, dance, and song. And for winning the White Heron Cup for the Blue Lions when you transferred into our house, of course. Had the professor chosen anyone else, we would have been in great peril.”

Dorothea and Petra exchange a look and laugh at that last part.

“I know this war took a heavy toll on all of us,” Dimitri admits, “so I am glad to see both of you smiling again.”

Dorothea walks over to Petra, takes her hand, and kisses her cheek. “That’s the power of love.”

Petra nods. “Love is having many powers, I have learned.”

Dimitri processes the scene in front of him. He had not realized how close Dorothea and Petra had grown over the course of the war. “O-oh, I see.”

“Sooo, speaking of love, Your Majesty.” A playful smile graces Dorothea’s face. “A lot of people have been confessing their love now that the war’s over. When are you going to?”

Dimitri nearly keels over. Of course, only one person pops into his mind. “It is not so simple…I fear that confessing to the one I love would be at odds with what I am expected to do as a king.” Now that Dimitri has said it out loud, it truly pains him to think that his kingdom probably expects him to take a queen and have Crest-bearing children like the kings before him, and would probably frown upon anything else.

Petra breaks him out of his internal negativity. “You must not be thinking such thoughts. When I get back to Brigid and become queen, I will tell my people that I love Dorothea. If they are wanting what is best for their queen, they will not be looking down upon this arrangement.”

Petra has always had incredible determination and eyes clearly looking toward the future. Dimitri admires that about her. “That is a fair point. At the very least, you have my support.”

Dorothea lets go of Petra’s hand and waves off the conversation. “Enough talk about politics for now. How do you plan on confessing to Dedue?”

Dimitri feels a jolt of heat go right to his face. “How do you know it’s…”

Dorothea touches his shoulders. “Dear sweet king. It’s a tad obvious. Luckily, I know the perfect way to show him how you feel. You brought up how I won the White Heron Cup, so let me teach you how to dance with him!”

Dimitri involuntarily takes a step back. “Dance? Dorothea, I want to confess to someone, not bring them shame.”

Dorothea laughs. “You’re not a bad dancer, Dimitri. I saw you dance at the Garreg Mach ball. You were a little stiff, sure, but you had nice footwork. So you’re not a totally hopeless cause!”

“That is right,” Petra adds. “Your cause still has hope.”

Dimitri sighs. “I hope you are right.”

“Besides,” Dorothea continues with a grin. “I remember seeing you stealing glances at Dedue standing at the wall all night. It looked like you both wanted to dance together, but were too shy to ask.”

Dimitri is caught. He remembers the night of the ball, taking turns dancing politely with other students while glimpsing Dedue’s sentinel form standing by the wall making sure Dimitri was in no harm of an ambush. How he wished he could have gone hand-in-hand with Dedue to the Goddess Tower to make his promise then. He feels lucky they are both alive so he can still make a promise now. “Well, in that case, I suppose I will just have to make it up to Dedue by finally asking him for a dance.”

Dorothea grabs Dimitri’s hands with excitement. “Better late than never!” she says enthusiastically. “Petra, will you help me demonstrate? Dimitri, you watch us first and then I’ll practice with you.” She lets go of his hands and takes Petra into a dancing position. “A basic waltz will do the trick. It’s easy to learn, it looks pretty, and it feels romantic.” She clears her throat. “I’ll provide the musical accompaniment, of course!”

Dorothea begins to sing a lovely song while she leads Petra through a waltz around the room. They make it look so easy, and it becomes clear to Dimitri that they fit perfectly together, both in this dance and in life in general. At one point, Petra almost slips on a random article of clothing on the floor, causing them to lose their footing for a moment. Both laugh loudly in each other’s arms until Dorothea resumes her singing. It warms Dimitri’s heart to see people happy like this. The devastation of the war was unbearable, but people are finally starting to smile and laugh in their recovery. And Petra and Dorothea look so in love. He pictures himself and Dedue waltzing around Fhirdiad’s moonlit pine forests, or inside the greenhouse next to Dedue’s favorite flowers. The thought is too much for him.

Dorothea stops her song and walks over to Dimitri. “Did you get all of that?” She grabs one of his hands, puts it on her shoulder, then puts her hand on his waist and takes his free hand in hers. He almost loses balance, and is quite sure Dorothea and the strength of the Blaiddyd Crest are the only things holding him up right now since thinking about dancing with Dedue made him so weak in the knees. “Let’s try it together.”

Dorothea sings and leads them around like an expert while Dimitri holds on for dear life. She gives instructions on each part of the dance, how to lead, how to follow, and to worry less about being technically perfect and worry more about making his partner feel special. After several rounds around the room, Dimitri is starting to get the hang of it. When they part, Dorothea is glowing while Dimitri feels winded.

“You are skilled at waltzing now, King Dimitri,” Petra comments. “Dorothea is a great teacher.”

Dimitri concurs. “Yes, she is. Thank you for showing me, Dorothea.” He looks around the disheveled room again. “Not to change the subject so suddenly, but I do not want to keep you any longer while you still need time get ready for your travels. Petra, I would be happy to discuss Brigid’s independence now if you would like, or we can meet about it another day before you leave.”

Petra smiles. “I would like to be discussing it now, if you have the time. And while we are discussing, I can show you another special thing you can be doing for Dedue.”

“Oh?” Dimitri is curious. “What is that?”

Petra pats the stool in front of Dorothea’s dressing table. Dimitri obliges and sits on it, and Petra swivels him around so he faces the mirror attached to it. “Dedue is having long hair that is good for braiding. I will teach you the Brigid hair braiding technique, and then you can be doing it for him.”

The thought of running his hands through Dedue’s silky white hair sends more electricity through Dimitri than a Thoron spell ever could. “Oh. That is very thoughtful, Petra. Please instruct me, and if I can ever muster up the fortitude for such an endeavor – which in all honesty, I am not sure I can – I think it would be a nice gesture.”

Dorothea loops her finger through a lock of Dimitri’s hair and leans down to look at his reflection in the mirror, a flash of playfulness dancing in her eyes. “You’re going to need a lot more fortitude when Dedue asks _you_ if he can braid _your_ hair.”

Dimitri feels like the stool has been knocked out from under him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dimitri better muster up that fortitude quickly since his next visit is to Dedue!


	6. All the Flowers in Fódlan

The next day, as the sun has freshly risen, Dimitri works up enough courage for an early morning visit to the greenhouse. There is only one decently sized greenhouse in Fhirdiad dedicated to growing flowers and edible plants that cannot thrive outdoors in the usual cold of Faerghus, but Dimitri plans on building more since a certain someone in his life enjoys gardening. He knows he can find that certain someone at the greenhouse today since he likes starting several mornings each week harvesting the ripened fruits and vegetables he cultivates. So, Dimitri walks through the dewy grass toward the greenhouse with the intention of asking this certain someone an important question. He would be lying to himself if he claims he doesn’t have a stomach full of butterflies that grow more intense with each step he takes.

When he arrives to the glass-paned building, he peers inside. Though he doesn’t see anyone, he can sense this certain someone’s presence – it has always been a comforting presence, one he spent five years thinking he would never sense again. He opens the greenhouse door and announces himself amid plots of brightly colored red roses, peach currants, and Morfis plums. At the sound of his voice, a familiar figure pops out from behind a tall verona plant in the back, gardening shears in hand. Dimitri’s greeting is ready to die on his lips at the sight of Dedue bathed in the sunlight filtering through the greenhouse panels. He looks angelic. The sun glints off the gold of his earring and highlights the teal color of his kind eyes, which look so happy every time he sees Dimitri despite how often they’re together. _Oh yes, that is most definitely the same color yarn I chose for the scarf I am gifting him_ , Dimitri thinks bashfully. “Good morning, Dedue,” he is barely able to manage saying. They have had thousands of normal conversations before. They are constantly side-by-side. Why is he now getting so flustered at something as simple as a greeting?

Suddenly, another familiar figure holding a watering can emerges from behind the same plant. “Oh! Good morning, Profess – Archbishop.” Byleth offers him a smile.

“Good morning, Your Majesty,” Dedue says. “Your timing is excellent. I have something for you.” Dedue walks past Dimitri to a shelf near the greenhouse entrance, and Dimitri pretends his heart does not skip a beat when Dedue’s shirtsleeve brushes against his own. Dedue grabs a small sachet tied with a thin blue ribbon and holds it out to Dimitri, who nearly drops it when their hands touch even though Dedue’s are covered in gardening gloves. A beautiful aroma wafts from the sachet. “It is lavender, a calming herb. You can place it near your pillow when you have trouble sleeping.” He points to a patch of pretty white and yellow flowers. “The chamomile is ready to be harvested as well. I can make your favorite tea for you.”

Dimitri’s heart pounds and pines for Dedue. He did not expect any of this, but of course Dedue would find new ways to demonstrate his incredible thoughtfulness. “Thank you, Dedue. For this and for…everything.” Dimitri feels ridiculously tongue-tied, but he can’t back down now. He has to ask his question before he leaves. “Are you free tonight for dinner? I have a gift for you, and there is a matter I would like to discuss.” He hates how formal he sounds, like he’s arranging a political strategy meeting.

“Yes,” Dedue answers. “What dishes would you like me to prepare?”

Dimitri shakes his head. “Actually, I would like to make _you_ something. I have made arrangements with the cooks so I can use the kitchens this afternoon.” Dedue may be stoic, but Dimitri can read him, and he can tell he is a bit puzzled. “I know I am far from a skilled cook, but Ashe has agreed to help, and he is very talented.”

“I can help as well,” Dedue offers.

Dimitri shakes his head again. “No, no. I would like to treat you, Dedue. Please allow me to express a token of my appreciation for all that you have done.”

Dedue stands still and unmoving in silence for a few moments. Perhaps he is trying to gauge the nervousness that Dimitri imagines is plain on his face, but Dimitri also senses something on Dedue’s face. He does not know if it is from the sunlight or from something more internal, but there is a beautiful glow on his cheeks more radiant than any of the flowers in the greenhouse. “Very well,” Dedue finally says, and Dimitri can feel the tension ease out of his shoulders. “When and where shall we meet?”

“Let us meet in the west courtyard as the sun is setting,” Dimitri says. The excitement is building up inside of him, and part of him cannot wait for this evening while another part is a terrified bundle of nerves. “It has been pleasantly warm this week for Fhirdiad, so we should enjoy the outdoors while we can.”

Dedue nods. “I will look forward to it. Is there any other way I can help you today, Your Majesty?”

Dimitri has told Dedue a thousand times to call him by his given name, but he still defaults to ‘Your Majesty.’ There is still a gap they need to close between them, but Dimitri reassures himself that will happen in due time. _I only wish to hear my given name from your lips_ , he thinks, but does not dare say it out loud. “You have done more than enough. I just came by to request your presence this evening.” _Request your presence? That sounds so detached! What is wrong with me?_ “Please enjoy your day, and we shall meet again at sundown.” Dimitri clutches the sachet to his heart. “And thank you for the lavender. It smells wonderful.” If it’s a calming herb as Dedue says it is, he is going to need a _lot_ of it to placate his rapidly beating heart.

Dimitri notices the small smile on Dedue’s lips and in his eyes as he bows and returns to pruning the plant in the back of the greenhouse. He is not sure if it is the heat from the greenhouse or something else that is making him feel far too warm. Still, his visit is not over, as this stop has granted him another unforeseen opportunity.

“Professor.” He really needs to kick that habit. “Sorry – Archbishop,” he corrects. Byleth turns and fixes him with those wide eyes of theirs. “Thank you for all you have done as well.” He looks down. “For being a great teacher, and for helping me when the voices in my head were very loud.” He looks back up and smiles. “I am glad you chose to teach the Blue Lions all those years ago.”

Byleth gives him a smile back and nods.

“Thank you for allowing me to interrupt. You are doing a great job caring for the plants here.” And with that, Dimitri opens the door and walks out of the greenhouse, cursing internally at himself for fumbling his interactions so much.

He is making his way back to the castle, feeling uncomfortably self-conscious, when he hears footsteps behind him and turns quickly to see Byleth running in his direction. Without saying anything, they hand him a piece of parchment. It seems to be a list of names written in a hurry. He soon recognizes some of the names as flowers Dedue has pointed out to him on various trips to the monastery’s greenhouse, on walks in Fhirdiad’s gardens, and in books on Duscur’s flora and fauna. “Archbishop, are these some of Dedue’s favorite flowers?”

Byleth nods, smiling.

“Are they all in bloom right now?”

Byleth nods again, smiling wider.

Dimitri thinks for a moment and feels faint. “Do you think he would like it if I collected these flowers and made a bouquet for him?”

Byleth nods once more, smiling even wider.

Dimitri envisions handing a bouquet to Dedue and seeing that glow on his face again. And the smile where his eyes crinkle in happiness. His heart almost jumps out of his body at the thought, but Dedue deserves a bouquet of pretty flowers, so he needs to follow through on this. “When you have the time, would you mind helping me find where these flowers are growing? I also need some assistance finding the vegetables Ashe said we could use in our cooking this afternoon, if you do not mind.”

Byleth holds up two empty woven straw baskets.

Dimitri laughs. “You have an excellent mind, Archbishop. Let us begin our quest.”

 _All the flowers in Fódlan would not be enough to thank Dedue,_ Dimitri thinks _. But I hope to one day build him many greenhouses and expand the gardens so he can enjoy an abundance of flowers every day._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up: Dimitri has some cooking (mis)adventures with Ashe in preparation for his dinner with Dedue!


	7. Food for Thought

“Thank you for agreeing to this, Ashe,” Dimitri says as he places a recipe book, a basket full of ingredients, and another basket with the crocheted scarf and the bouquet of flowers on a countertop. “I would be a hopeless cause in this kitchen without you.”

“My pleasure!” Ashe says with a smile. “I've always enjoyed cooking. My birth parents owned a restaurant, so I often helped them prepare meals. And I learned a lot about cooking from Dedue during our academy days, so I'm delighted to help you do something nice for him."

“I am grateful for your supervision.” Dimitri sees this as an opportune moment to express more of his gratitude. “I am also thankful for your excellent bow skills, and, even more so, for your kindness. The world needs more good-hearted people like you.”

Ashe blushes and turns away. “That means a lot coming from the king himself.”

“And your reading prowess, of course,” Dimitri adds. “Your knowledge of history helped us not to repeat mistakes of the past. I can think of no better person to be Head of Libraries.” After the war, Ashe had asked Dimitri for the position, and Dimitri gladly granted it. Under Ashe’s supervision, all texts within Fódlan would be documented and preserved. Ashe even had plans to organize a time each moon when he and Dimitri could read their favorite storybooks to the children of Fhirdiad.

Ashe’s blush turns an even deeper shade of red. “Thank you, Dimitri.” He begins laying out various ingredients. “Shall we start?”

“Yes. For tonight's dinner, I would like to stick to the menu we decided: onion gratin soup and vegetable stir-fry.”

Ashe bites his lip. “You’re sure about the onion gratin soup? It can be…quite a bit of work.”

Dimitri understands Ashe’s hesitations. “I know I am not as proficient as you and Dedue are when it comes to the art of cooking, but I would like to try my hand at it. Dedue and I share a love for that dish. We ate it together often in the Garreg Mach dining hall. We even grew the herbs with which to season it in a little herb garden we planted here in Fhirdiad many moons ago, so it is something special to our friendship.”

Ashe smiles. “I understand. Okay, let’s start with the soup.” He places a pot of liquid in front of Dimitri. “I made the fish broth a little earlier since that takes some time to prepare. I used white trout caught by the Archbishop, of course.”

“Thank you.” Dimitri laughs. “The Archbishop has become quite the angler. I am glad Alois managed not to scare off the fish today.”

Ashe chuckles. “Not all of them, at least.” He peers into Dimitri’s basket. “Let’s begin by cutting the onions you brought.”

“Easy enough,” Dimitri says. He grabs the onions from the basket, puts them in front of him on the counter, takes a knife from the cookware, and positions it onto an onion.

“Wait!” Ashe cries out. “You need to put a cutting board under it!”

But it’s too late. Dimitri slices clean through the onion and right into the countertop where it leaves a large crack. He sighs. _Why does this always happen?_ he asks himself. “I am sorry, Ashe. The Blaiddyd Crest often does more harm than good in terms of the strength it grants, I’m afraid.”

Ashe very carefully takes the knife out of Dimitri’s hand and pats Dimitri’s shoulder with his free hand. “Don’t get discouraged. Mishaps are normal when you’re learning how to cook.” He sets one half of the onion on a cutting board. “I’ll demonstrate how to do it.” He runs the knife through the onion and ends up with a clean slice, countertop still very much in tact. “Onions are easy to slice through, so you don’t need to apply a lot of pressure to cut them.”

From then on, Dimitri listens to Ashe’s detailed instructions and watches all of his demonstrations first, then tries his hand at caramelizing onions, simmering ingredients in the stock, and tying together herbs that Ashe had harvested earlier to flavor the broth. Once Dimitri gets the hang of each step, they talk amicably through their cooking adventure.

“This looks great so far!” Ashe comments once their product is shaping up into something that looks edible. He gently lays a spoon over the top of it, fills it with broth, and holds it in front of Dimitri. “How about you taste it to see if it needs more flavoring?”

“Oh.” A pang of guilt washes over Dimitri. “To tell you the truth, Ashe, I…lost my sense of taste many years ago, after the Tragedy of Duscur.”

Ashe’s face falls, but he continues holding the spoon in the air, seeming unsure of what to do. “I-I didn’t know. I’m so sorry, Dimitri.”

“It is quite alright,” Dimitri says quickly so Ashe doesn't feel bad. “How about you try it instead? I fully trust your judgment.”

That seems to brighten Ashe a bit. “Okay!” He eats the spoonful and makes a satisfied sound. “It’s delicious!”

Dimitri is grateful his foray into cooking has not been a total disaster, though that is mostly thanks to Ashe. “I am glad to hear that.”

Ashe puts his spoon down and goes quiet for a moment. “You know, when Dedue was teaching Annette and I how to cook, he told us he would never stop trying to improve his cooking skills until his dishes made you smile.”

Dimitri’s heart sinks as he weighs this in his mind. Dedue goes to such great lengths to ensure Dimitri’s wellbeing, whether it is protecting him on the battlefield or growing lavender to prevent restless nights or cooking something he thinks will make Dimitri smile. Dedue often references how Dimitri saved him on that dark day many years ago, but Dedue has saved Dimitri again and again in so many ways. He has done and continues to do so much for Dimitri's sake. Dimitri is alive right now, doing something as wonderfully domestic as cooking a meal, because of Dedue. He loves that man so much.

“Ah! I am sorry if that was out of line to say!” Ashe panics, probably from the lack of response.

Dimitri puts a reassuring hand on Ashe’s shoulder. “I am glad you told me. I may not have my sense of taste anymore, but knowing that Dedue has crafted a dish with the utmost care will put a smile on my face every time I eat a meal he has prepared.”

Ashe’s shoulder loosens under Dimitri’s hand, and it looks like he is relaxing again. “A lot of emotions go into cooking, don’t they?” he says with a laugh. Dimitri couldn’t agree more.

The next steps include transferring everything in the pot into individual bowls, slicing bread and toasting it in the oven, and grating Gautier cheese. After the war, Sylvain had sent a letter to the Gautier territory informing them he was recovering from injuries and asking if they would send several wheels of Gautier cheese to Fhirdiad knowing it’s Dimitri’s favorite. Dimitri is grateful he has such considerate friends.

Once Ashe and Dimitri finish layering the bowls with bread and cheese, Ashe inspects everything, gives his approval, and starts putting the bowls into the oven with Dimitri’s help.

“I want to be able to cook for Dedue like this as often as I can,” Dimitri says absentmindedly, barely registering that he has said it out loud until Ashe comments.

“The two of you remind me of the characters in one of my favorite stories, _The Tale of Alexandre and Linaro_.” Ashe smiles wistfully. “Alexandre was a valiant prince and Linaro was his steadfast vassal. They fought side-by-side in every battle together, Linaro always guarding his prince’s back. While they tried to act like prince and vassal in public, everyone knew they shared a bond that went deeper than sworn loyalty. Linaro lived with Alexandre in the royal castle, and he often cooked for the prince and put fresh flowers he grew in the prince’s room, and the prince would reserve a seat next to him at the head table every meal and write poems about Linaro’s kind heart. When it was time for Alexandre to become king, he shocked all the gatherers at his coronation ceremony by announcing that he would not be naming a queen; instead, in front of everyone, he declared his love for Linaro.”

Dimitri has to steady his hands to avoid spilling the very full contents of the bowl he is placing into the oven. _I remind him of this tale? Is it this obvious I am in love?_ he wonders. “What was the crowd’s reaction?” he asks instead.

Ashe casts his eyes downward. “The story ends in tragedy, I’m afraid. The citizens were upset Alexandre would not be passing down his Crest, and his family was furious, so he was forced to relinquish the crown to his younger brother. Linaro was exiled from the Kingdom that same day. Alexandre was never the same after that, and he died a few years later from what many believed was a broken heart. After his death, the royal family found a journal full of love poems in his room, one written each day from Linaro’s exile until Alexandre’s death.”

Dimitri takes a moment to process the story. “Ashe, that is quite possibly the most devastating tale I have ever heard.”

“Ah, well, it has been rewritten many times by other authors throughout history!” Ashe quickly interjects. “One author gave them a happy ending in which Alexandre becomes king without having confessed his love to Linaro, or vice versa. Their kingdom is attacked by a neighboring empire shortly into Alexandre’s reign, and both Alexandre and Linaro get fatally wounded. They crawl towards each other on the battlefield and Linaro cradles Alexandre in his arms, finally telling him how much he loves him. Alexandre confesses his love then too, telling Linaro his heart has only ever belonged to him, and they die in each other’s arms.”

Dimitri takes a moment to process _that_ story. “And that is considered a _happy_ ending?”

“They died knowing each other’s true feelings of love!” Ashe reasons. “Well, my favorite rewrite is the one where the people of the kingdom recognize that Crests shouldn’t be such an obsession, so they accept Alexandre’s love for Linaro, and the two peacefully rule the kingdom together.” Ashe purses his lips. “Perhaps, under your rule, people will be free to love whomever they want without the pressure of passing down a Crest.”

That is all Dimitri wants for the people of Fódlan and for himself. Too many times, he has seen the harmful impact of the Crest system. “That would be an ideal scenario. As king, I do want to build a future where everyone can feel respected, no matter their rank or circumstance of their birth.”

* * *

While the onion gratin soup is in the oven, Dimitri and Ashe get to work on the vegetable stir-fry. The sound of the vegetables sizzling in the pan becomes a comforting noise, and Dimitri's mind is able to wander to thoughts of Dedue feeling loved and appreciated when he sees the meal Dimitri has made for him, and the bouquet of flowers, and the simple scarf.

Thanks to Ashe’s perfect timing, the onion gratin soup is done right when they finish the stir-fry. They distribute the vegetables to separate plates and then take the bowls out of the oven.

“I didn’t want to be nosy, but why did you prepare four bowls of soup and four servings of stir-fry?” Ashe asks as he places a soup bowl next to the vegetables on one of the plates. “Were you worried some wouldn’t turn out well, so you made backups just in case?”

Dimitri smiles. “I made one plate for Dedue, one for myself, one for the Archbishop who helped me gather ingredients, and one for the talented and kindhearted chef who coached me through it all.”

Ashe turns a shade of red similar to the tomatoes that went into the stir-fry. “Dimitri, that wasn’t necessary.”

“It was, actually,” Dimitri responds. “This meal would not have looked this appetizing were it not for your help.” He holds out a plate. “Please take it to the dining hall and eat it before it gets cold. And if you do not mind, please take a plate for the Prof – Archbishop as well. I will clean up a bit…” – he runs a hand over the indent he made on the countertop – “and fix this…and then meet with Dedue.”

Ashe shakes his head. “We can clean up later.” He assembles a tray with the plates, bowls, and cutlery and slides it over to Dimitri. “Go take the food to Dedue while it’s still hot. And good luck tonight!”

All of the sudden, Dimitri becomes incredibly nervous. It finally hits him that he is meeting with Dedue in a moment. He takes a quick inventory – he has the flower bouquet, the scarf, and the dinner. _It is time_ , he thinks. _I can do this. I can thank Dedue from the bottom of my heart for everything he has done. And then, if the timing feels right, I can tell him that I love him._

Dimitri exits the kitchen with food and gifts in his hands, determination in his mind, and love in his heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I totally got the name “Alexandre” from Dimitri’s middle name, and “Linaro” comes from Dedue’s last name, Molinaro.
> 
> Oh, and for the onion gratin soup, I tried to build the recipe from the very vague list of ingredients the game provides for it: white trout x1, onion x1. I figured it would need a little more than that!


	8. A Crown of Gold and a Crown of Flowers

The setting sun casts the west side of the castle in brilliant golden tones in the thankfully not-yet-freezing temperatures of Faerghus as Dimitri makes his way to one of the small courtyards located in a less-traversed corner of the castle that offers privacy. It’s a short walk, but every step feels heavy. He tries to focus on balancing the dinner tray in his hands and the basket hooked through his arm, but his thoughts are moving through his head so fast he can hardly keep up. _Is this too much? Will Dedue feel overwhelmed? Is this all too superficial? I want to thank him first and foremost, so would confessing love all in the same day be inadvisable? Would that ruin the friendship I hold so dear?_

Before his thoughts can eat their way through his brain, a familiar voice calls out. “Your Majesty, please allow me to unburden you.” Dimitri doesn’t have time to protest before Dedue carves a path straight to him and lifts the tray out of his hands.

“Thank you, Dedue, I…” Dimitri's mouth stops moving. He looks up, and in front of him, the courtyard is overflowing with flowers in rich shades illuminated by the glow of dozens of lit candles. There are alternating red roses and yellow roses lining the low courtyard walls, arrangements of burgundy and orange flowers the color of sunsets at each table, and deep fuchsia-hued blooms adorning the archway at the courtyard entrance. Everywhere he looks there are beautiful colors and flickering candles.

Dedue must notice Dimitri’s awestruck face. “You went through the effort of cooking dinner. I thought you might like to eat it in a welcoming environment,” he explains.

Dimitri does not move or say anything. His arms remain outstretched as if he is still holding the dinner tray.

“I…hope the flowers are to your liking,” Dedue adds, standing hesitantly outside of the courtyard walls with the tray in hand as if assessing Dimitri’s lack of response.

Dimitri wants nothing more than to throw down his basket, take the tray out of Dedue’s hands and set it down somewhere out of the way, and sweep Dedue up in his arms while he tells him how much he loves him. But it would be wrong to do that right now. When he moves his eye from the courtyard decorations to Dedue’s face, he notices something. Dedue appears nervous too. Perhaps this meeting means a lot to him as well.

“I am speechless,” Dimitri finally says. “The courtyard has never looked so magnificent.” He walks closer to the wall so he can admire the flowers up close. “You truly have an eye for beauty.” 

Dedue releases a breath he must have been holding in. “Thank you for the compliment, Your Majesty.”

Dimitri waves his hands. “Dedue, please. As I have said before, it is sufficient to address me by just my first name. I do not wish for you to think of me as ‘Your Majesty.’ Simply think of me as your Dimitri.”

In the candlelight and setting sun, Dimitri can see a trace of a blush go across Dedue’s face. It takes him a moment to realize what he has just said. _'_ _Your Dimitri’? My tongue is working faster than my brain today._ “Let us sit and eat before the food goes cold,” Dimitri suggests, trying desperately to calm his nerves.

Dedue nods, and the two make their way under the archway and into the courtyard proper. Dedue sets the tray down on a table that has been decorated with a beautifully embroidered tablecloth, a pastiche of flowers, and brightly burning candles in nicely designed holders.

As Dimitri gets closer to the table, he is met with a very pleasant aroma. “What is that heavenly scent?” he asks. 

“The candles are scented with lavender and chamomile, which have calming properties. Your duties as a king have been weighing on you, so this fragrance may help alleviate stress.”

While the scent is lovely, it does nothing to calm Dimitri’s racing heart, which beats faster every time Dedue does something considerate – which is often. He deserves to know how kindhearted he is. “Just like the sachet of lavender you gifted me earlier today. Dedue, you are the most thoughtful person in all of Fódlan.”

Dedue looks away. “I could say the same about its king,” he declares quietly, and then busies himself by pulling out a chair. “Please, have a seat.”

Dimitri sets his basket down next to the table and pulls the other chair out. “I said that tonight is to show my appreciation. Please allow me to offer _you_ a seat.”

Dedue’s hands linger on the chair he is holding for Dimitri, but he finally acquiesces Dimitri’s request and takes a seat on the one offered to him. He looks up at Dimitri and thanks him, and Dimitri takes a seat on the chair across from him.

“This meal looks very appealing,” Dedue says. “Onion gratin soup was one of our favorite meals at the academy, and I have always enjoyed vegetable stir-fry. Thank you for remembering.”

“Of course,” Dimitri replies. “Ashe helped me cook it. I learned from him, and he learned much from you, so your signature is in these dishes as well.”

“No. This is of your own merit, Dimitri.”

It’s Dimitri’s turn to feel a blush creeping up his cheeks, so he quickly grabs his cutlery and motions for Dedue to do the same. “Let us eat. Please do the honors of taking the first bite.”

Dedue grabs a plate off the tray and takes a spoonful of soup, smiling after he swallows it. “This is excellent, Your – Dimitri.”

 _I_ am _your Dimitri. Always._ “I am glad you like it.” Dimitri wants to take the opportunity to finally say a heartfelt thanks, but gets distracted by the tablecloth. He runs a finger over the blue thread proficiently sewn in a pretty pattern throughout the white fabric. “Is this your needlework?”

Dedue nods. “I designed it with you in mind. The motifs represent the Ethereal Moon. Your birthday.”

 _I thought it impossible for me to love you any more than I already do, but you prove me wrong again and again, and my love only grows._ “I am touched. You truly are an expert at creating beautiful things.” Dimitri then remembers his own crafting project. “Oh! On the subject of needlework, I would like you to have this.” Dimitri picks up the basket and retrieves the scarf he crocheted, suddenly feeling quite shy. “I believe this is a color representative of Duscur. And I added the lion brooch to represent our time in the Blue Lions house, of course.” He hands it over to Dedue, who accepts it with the utmost delicacy, as if it was crafted by the gods.

“You made this for me?” he asks.

“Mercedes and Annette helped me greatly in the endeavor,” Dimitri answers. He lets out a small laugh. “Believe it or not, I did not break a single crochet hook. I know it is simple, but…”

Dedue continues smiling at it. “It is perfect,” he says with reverence. “I will wear it now.”

“You don’t have to –.” Dimitri doesn’t finish his sentence. Dedue is already taking off his own scarf and winding the new one around his neck. Just as Dimitri suspected, the teal yarn he chose perfectly matches Dedue’s eyes. The sight of Dedue wearing a scarf Dimitri made, simple as it is, absolutely melts Dimitri’s heart.

Dedue adjusts the draping of the scarf around his neck and runs his hands down the ends of it with great admiration. “Thank you, Dimitri,” he says as he meets his gaze. It takes all of Dimitri’s willpower not to melt into a puddle right at the table, but he realizes now is the right opportunity for verbally expressing his gratitude.

“I should be the one thanking you, Dedue. For everything. That is why I wanted to meet with you tonight.” Dimitri looks away and collects his thoughts before he looks across the table again. “Without you, I would not be alive today. I would not even be who I am today. You have saved me countless times in countless ways.”

Dedue looks down and smiles. “You honor me. I have always been proud to be by your side.”

“I am the lucky one,” Dimitri continues. “I wish there were words to express how special you are. I meant it before when I said you are irreplaceable. Cherished.”

Dedue looks flustered and unsure of what to say, staring at Dimitri in silence. Dimitri feels that look straight to his heart and starts panicking. _Am I making him uncomfortable? Am I speaking too much?_ He takes a breath and collects himself. “Perhaps, since I am not good at expressing my sentiments in words, you will allow me to express them in actions.” He reaches into the basket and carefully pulls out the bouquet of flowers he collected with Byleth’s help. “I would like you to have these.” A little too quickly due to nerves, he thrusts the bouquet at Dedue.

Dedue gently takes the bouquet and observes its contents with slight shock on his face. “These are my favorite flowers.” He cradles them in his arms like a baby. “You picked my favorite flowers and arranged them in a bouquet for me.” He says it as a statement, as if so incredulous that he would be deserving of such a gift that he has to say it out loud to make sure it is real. Dimitri wants that mindset to change immediately. _I want you to know you are deserving of everything good in this world._

“I remembered some of your favorites from when we walked through Fhirdiad’s gardens as children, and the Archbishop has been taking note of flowers you have admired in the greenhouse, so they helped me track down all of the plots in order to gather them,” Dimitri explains.

Dedue touches a particularly vibrant red flower and lingers on it for a moment with a serious expression before his face softens again. “This is a very thoughtful gift. Thank you.” He gently puts the bouquet on the table and stands up. "Excuse me for a moment as I retrieve something for you." He walks over to a corner of the courtyard and takes something out of a box that has been stowed there. "I have prepared a floral arrangement for you as well." He walks back over to Dimitri holding a stunning hoop of white roses, light blue forget-me-nots, and sprigs of baby’s breath, green stems all expertly woven together to form a circle. “It is not yet the Garland Moon, but the flowers were ready to be made into a crown.” He looks to the ground bashfully. “One befitting a king.”

Dimitri hears the words Dedue has spoken, but his mind can hardly comprehend them. _He is presenting me with a crown…of flowers. A crown made with the flowers he cares for so well. Dedue…I am so lucky to have fallen in love with you._ It is such an intimate gesture that Dimitri feels his heart is going to burst. He is ready to lunge out of his seat and kiss Dedue, but he controls himself and stands slowly to receive his gift. “Dedue, this is an exquisite garland. It is even more special knowing you grew these flowers.” Dimitri reaches for the gift, but Dedue hesitates to hand it over.

Instead, Dedue asks, “May I?” and lifts the garland up a little higher in the air, closer to the top of Dimitri’s head.

“Oh,” Dimitri responds. _Oh._ His heart is _definitely_ going to burst out of his chest now. “Yes, please, I would be honored to wear it.” He lowers himself a bit even though he knows Dedue is taller than he is. A moment later, he feels flowers caress his head in the gentlest of ways, petals tickling the tips of his ears. When he bends back up to stand at full height again, Dedue’s fingers briefly brush through strands of his hair. Dimitri’s breath hitches. He enjoyed that fleeting sensation very much. “H…How does it look?”

“It looks regal,” Dedue says. “You wear it as well as the Kingdom crown, Your Majesty.”

Dimitri is so distracted by the rapidity of his heartbeat that he does not even correct Dedue’s use of too-formal titles. “Thank you” is all he can manage to say.

Dimitri suddenly notices everything about his surroundings. He notices that the sun has set by now, and Fhirdiad is painted in the moonlight and the light of the candles Dedue has set around the courtyard. He notices the growing chill in the air is sending shivers down his spine – at least, he wants to believe it’s the air. Most of all, though, he notices how close he and Dedue are, literally and figuratively. He could close the gap, literally and figuratively. He could just lean in…

“We should finish eating the meal you made,” Dedue notes, and he walks back to his seat across the table. He picks up the flower bouquet Dimitri gave him and nestles it in the crook of his elbow, lingering at the chair. Dimitri figures he is probably waiting for him to sit back down, so he does just that, and Dedue follows. Dimitri needs the support anyway since he feels like the wind has been knocked out of him. 

The food is mostly cold by now, but neither of them comments on it. They eat in silence for a while until Dimitri speaks again. “I would like to cook for you more often,” he musters up the courage to say.

The spoonful of soup Dedue took hovers near his lips as he looks back at Dimitri. “That is not necessary. A king has many duties to attend to, so he should not waste his time cooking.”

“It is not a waste of time when I am doing something for someone I cherish,” Dimitri blurts out with full honesty.

Dedue’s jaw goes slack. He lowers his spoon back into the bowl. “Your Majesty…”

“Please, Dedue, do not call me that, especially when we are alone. It only serves to distance us from one another, and I do not wish for that at all. I have always wanted for you to see me as an equal.” Emboldened, he reaches across the table and takes Dedue’s hands in his own. “I appreciate when you do nice things for me, but you must allow me to do nice things for you as well. You deserve it as you deserve everything else you could possibly want.”

Today is a rare day where both Dimitri and Dedue are not wearing their usual gloves, so Dimitri does not know whether it is his or Dedue’s palms that are sweating. Either way, both are clearly nervous. This is uncharted territory for the two of them, so he waits in silence for Dedue’s response.

“I understand,” Dedue finally says. “But I do not want my presence in your life to threaten your rule as king. Associating with someone of Duscur blood is still viewed unfavorably.”

“It will not be,” Dimitri immediately interjects, lightly squeezing Dedue’s hands with conviction. “It should never have been in the first place, but if I am unable to undo the past, I will do everything I possibly can to create a future where these prejudices are eliminated. In fact, I spoke with Ingrid about this yesterday, and she wants to join me in the efforts to rebuild Duscur and Duscur-Faerghus relations. If you would like to be involved, it is crucial that your voice is heard in this discussion. I will be there every step of the way to help, and I promise you, those are not empty words.” He purses his lips. “You and the people of Duscur deserve better, and as king, I will see to it that we mend what has been broken.”

Dimitri knows this is a heavy conversation topic to be having over onion gratin soup, but it is an important one. Fortunately, Dedue smiles at him. “I have always admired your compassion,” he says. “Fódlan is lucky to have you as its king.”

Dimitri smiles back. “I would not be wearing the crown were it not for you.” He releases their hands and gently touches the wreath in his hair. “Either the Kingdom crown made of gold, or the exquisite one made of flowers you have placed upon my head.”

* * *

After dinner, the two blow out the candles and bring their plates back to the kitchens. Dedue argued that a king should not worry about cleaning dishes, but Dimitri insisted he would. So they stand side-by-side, rinsing and scrubbing the plates and utensils.

While he is running a cloth over a plate to dry it, it hits Dimitri how blissfully domestic this all is. Five years ago, when he was sure he was going to die, he never could have imagined there would be a time in his life where he would get to share in the simple joy of washing plates he knows he and Dedue will be able to use when they dine together again. He looks to the side and sees the man he cares about so deeply, the man who has been beside him for everything even when he was not physically there, the man who is still balancing the bouquet of flowers in the crook of his elbow while he wipes clean the dish in his hand.

Dedue must notice Dimitri’s eye on him because he turns toward him, and his face immediately fills with great concern. “Dimitri,” he says with apprehension. “Are you well?”

Dimitri is caught off guard by the question. “Of course,” he answers, and with great confusion he hears his own voice break. It is then he feels a trail of something warm spilling down his cheek. He lifts a hand to wipe it off, but Dedue has beaten him to it. He cradles Dimitri’s head in his large hand and gently swipes him thumb over Dimitri’s cheek. Dimitri bites his lip in hopes it will stop the flow of tears, but they rush down even harder.

Dedue springs into action and sweeps him into an embrace with Dimitri now sobbing into his shoulder. That broad, comforting shoulder Dimitri remembers resting his head on when Dedue once carried him to a healer during a battle. “Dimitri, please, tell me what is troubling you.”

Dimitri tries to speak through choked sobs. “I am so thankful we are both alive, and – and we can still be by each other’s side.” He grips the back of Dedue’s shirt, hugging him tightly. “I hardly feel deserving of it. Of you.”

“You _are_ deserving of it, Dimitri,” Dedue says at once. He gently lays his chin atop Dimitri’s head, and Dimitri does not think he has ever been this enveloped by warmth before. “And know that I will always be by your side.”

Dimitri spends some time in the soothing space of Dedue’s shoulder. Dedue does not appear to be discomforted by it, so Dimitri takes time to collect himself before he carefully releases his hold. He realizes he has probably crushed both the flowers in his garland and the flowers in Dedue’s bouquet, and he can see tearstains on the scarf he crocheted. “I am sorry,” he says as he wipes the remaining tears away. “There are still moments when I am deeply overcome by…everything that has transpired in our lives.”

“There is no need to apologize,” Dedue says. He reaches up but hesitates with his hands in the air for a moment before continuing the movement and readjusting the flower garland in Dimitri’s hair and realigning his eyepatch. “I will be by your side to offer you solace you when these moments occur.”

Dimitri sniffles. “The very same goes for you, Dedue. We have both witnessed terrible atrocities. I am here for you whenever you need solace, too.” He already misses the warm feeling of Dedue’s arms around him. His legs are suddenly quite shaky, so he leans on the nearest countertop for support – and feels a crack in it. “Oh no…”

Dedue follows his line of vision and must notice the large cleft on the countertop. Despite it, he smiles. “Did this happen while you were cooking?”

Dimitri nods, running fingers over the fracture and sighing. But then his hand is taken in Dedue’s.

“We can fix that later,” Dedue assures. “There is something I would like to show you now, if you have time.”

“Yes, of course,” Dimitri answers, feeling cleansed from releasing emotions he did not know he had bottled up. “Please, lead the way.”

Dedue leads them out of the kitchens and back into the cool night air of Faerghus, still holding Dimitri’s hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can never have too many flower crowns ;)
> 
> The final two chapters are just filled to the brim with sweetness - I hope you enjoy it!


	9. Undying Devotion

Outside the castle in the crisp night air, Dimitri and Dedue walk hand-in-hand along the paved paths while Dedue leads them to their next destination. The sparkling night sky is dotted with stars among a round and shimmering moon, and the whole thing feels surreal to Dimitri, who cannot fathom how lucky he is to walk alongside someone he is so thankful for.

And then Dedue’s hand is gone from his.

He looks over and follows Dedue’s line of vision to a group of people chatting amicably in one of the castle’s other courtyards, seemingly not noticing their king or his companion.

“We should exercise discretion,” Dedue says.

“What?”

Dedue takes a moment before he clarifies what he meant. “It would be inappropriate for me to perform anything other than the duties of a vassal in public. I do not want your reputation to be tarnished because people see you associating with –”

“Dedue,” Dimitri cuts him off firmly. “We just had a discussion about this. You are a cherished member of this Kingdom, and a cherished friend of its king. I will do everything I can to eradicate lingering prejudices.” He has an idea. “Fortunately, people often look to their king to model how they should act, so I can do my part to set a good example. Such as this.” Dimitri twines his hand around Dedue’s bicep – the one that isn’t currently occupied by the flower bouquet still resting in his elbow – and tries to ignore how much it burns from the feel of taut muscles under it. He angles them towards the people in the courtyard and calls out “good evening” loud enough so they can hear it.

The townspeople whip their heads around and immediately rise when they see Dimitri. “Your Majesty!” They all bow.

“Please, be at ease,” Dimitri responds. “I am only passing through on a walk with my dear friend Dedue.” He doesn’t let go of Dedue’s arm. “Did you know that he is the one who saved me from execution? He is the reason Fhirdiad was freed from the grasp of our adversaries. The Kingdom would still be in great peril were it not for him. _I_ would still be in great peril were it not for him.”

Dimitri looks from Dedue – who appears rigid with nerves, limbs unmoving – to the townspeople, who look amongst each other in surprise.

“In that case, thanks are in order,” one of the townspeople says with a nervous but sincere smile. “You have our gratitude for protecting our king.”

They look at Dedue as if waiting for his reply. He remains stoic, but Dimitri can feel his arm muscles start to relax a bit. Finally, he declares, “I will continue to protect our king for as long as I shall live.”

Dimitri lightly squeezes Dedue’s arm and smiles up at him before addressing the townspeople again. “Enjoy your evening, and thank you for supporting the Kingdom.” They bow again and sit back down, and Dimitri motions for Dedue to continue leading them forward.

“You honor me with your words,” Dedue states once they are a few paces ahead and out of earshot of the townspeople. “It is not necessary to extol my actions in such a manner.”

Dimitri leans into his hold on Dedue’s arm as they keep walking. “Oh, but it is, and I will continue to do so until all of Fódlan knows how exceptional you are.” A humble smile makes its way across Dedue’s features, and he readjusts his position so both of their arms are now properly linked.

Over the course of the night, it becomes easier for Dimitri to talk to Dedue without the weighty feeling of something threatening to change their friendship and irrevocably ruin it. Dimitri’s intuition has grown stronger throughout the years, and he is starting to sense that his feelings might be reciprocated. He is also starting to think he has harbored these feelings for years without putting a name to them. The sudden realization makes his chest burn. He dares not rush anything, however, so he thinks to put those feelings aside for now.

Dimitri jerks to a halt as Dedue stops moving. “Here is what I wanted to show you, Your – Dimitri.”

Before him is a small plot of land with raised plant beds that have all kinds of greens growing out of them. With Dedue being an avid, skilled gardener, Dimitri is not surprised to see that all of the plants appear to be thriving. Upon closer inspection, it looks like the plants are mostly herbs. It seems oddly familiar, the placement of this plot neighboring this particular castle wall, the types of plants growing…

“It is not much,” Dedue says. “But when we lived at the castle together many years ago after the Tragedy of Duscur, we planted an herb garden together so the cooks would have fresh seasonings. It was destroyed when it was discovered that a man of Duscur helped establish it, but we replanted it under your strict orders that no one else was to touch it. It was unfortunately destroyed again when Fhirdiad was captured, but now that the war is over, I thought it would be a good time to try growing the plants again.” Dedue gestures towards the different plant beds. “These are all herbs that tend to withstand the chillier temperatures of the north.”

“Dedue…”

“I had a hunch you would be making our favorite onion gratin soup for dinner, so I picked some of the rosemary growing here for Ashe earlier today,” Dedue continues. “I am sorry for keeping it a secret from you, but I thought the garden would be a pleasant surprise.”

Dimitri remembers the little herb garden they shared so many years ago. It had been Dimitri's idea after Dedue had mentioned gardening was one of his favorite activities back in Duscur. He wanted to bring something positive into his life after so much tragedy. Dedue would enthusiastically describe the growing habits of each of the herbs and had so much patience teaching Dimitri how to plant them - even when Dimitri attempted to dig a small hole and ended up breaking a shovel due to his strength. “It is a magnificent surprise.” Dimitri lets go of his hold on Dedue’s arm and crouches down near the rosemary, touching a healthy-looking sprig of it. “I remember when we were younger how much I enjoyed checking on the herbs each day to see their progress. It was amazing to see something alive and growing after so much destruction. We found great solace in gardening during those difficult times.”

“I remember your particular affinity for edible weeds.”

Dimitri’s laugh rings out into the night air. He turns around to retort, but immediately forgets what he was going to say when his eye is met with an expression full of such tenderness.

“Perhaps this can be a garden all of Fódlan can enjoy,” Dedue suggests. “Children can plant new seeds here or harvest what they need. Gardening may offer them solace, too.”

“Yes.” Dimitri begins to rise, but Dedue walks up to him and extends a hand. Dedue has always been there to help him up when he is down, so Dimitri accepts the offering. Once he is standing again, their hands remain clasped.

Bold of Dimitri to think he could ever put his feelings, especially the ones regarding Dedue, aside for even one day more.

“This is truly a heartfelt gift,” Dimitri says, very aware of how close he and Dedue are standing. “I will cherish it as I cherish you.” The words are out before he can think them through. But honesty has always been important to him, and he wants to speak from the heart. “Please, Dedue…if there is anything you want – anything at all – just ask and I will provide it.”

Dedue looks back at him with all the tenderness in the world. “That your heart is still beating is the greatest gift of all.”

Dimitri’s world goes blank. He does not register anything outside of his own head, which replays those words over and over again in an echo, as if repeating them will ensure he heard them correctly and is not dreaming. _‘That your heart is still beating is the greatest gift of all.’ ‘That your heart is still beating is the greatest gift of all.’ How am I this fortunate? What did I do to deserve someone so special in my life?_ He wants to tilt his head upward and kiss Dedue – he’s close enough to do it – but his body is frozen.

Dedue’s smile turns into a worried expression. “I am sorry if I said something out of line.”

“No,” Dimitri says quickly before Dedue worries more. “I am just…overcome by your words.” He takes a deep breath. “Dedue, there is something I need to tell you.”

Dedue’s eyes search his as if looking for a sign as to what he is talking about. “Of course. You can tell me anything.”

Dimitri looks at the scarf he crocheted Dedue, looks at the bouquet still resting in Dedue’s elbow, looks at their hands tightly held, and knows it’s time. “My heart still beats _because_ of you, Dedue. And, well…it also beats _for_ you.” Dedue’s eyes widen, and his jaw opens a bit, but he does not say anything back. “Forgive me, I phrased that clumsily. What I mean to say is…” He trails off, feeling less surefooted by the second.

And then Dimitri feels his hand being let go as two sturdy hands firmly grab the sides of his arms and root him in place. It is then he notices how shaky his body is. Dedue’s eyes are full of instant concern, as if Dimitri has just sustained an injury on the battlefield. “Your Majesty, you are trembling,” he says quickly, words laced with fear. “Are you falling ill? Let us find a place to sit and rest.”

“Dimitri,” Dimitri corrects exasperatedly. “Please, just call me Dimitri.” He shakes his head, hoping it will shake away all the nerves in the process. “I promise, I am not ill. I am just…not very good with words today.” He makes eye contact with Dedue, who is still holding him up with a worried expression, and speaks to him with all the resolve he can muster. “What I mean to say is, everything we have been through together, every darkness we have crawled through together to get back into the light…I am so thankful you are still by my side. I love you, Dedue Molinaro, more than I could ever express in elegant words.” He says it again, softly and with a more controlled voice. “I love you.”

Dedue looks stunned beyond words. Dimitri wishes he would say something, anything to make his heart beat just a little bit quieter instead of so loud he can feel it in his ears. Finally, Dedue's face softens, and he reaches into the bouquet Dimitri gifted him. He slowly pulls out one of the red flowers he had lingered on earlier when Dimitri first handed him the bouquet. “Do you know what kind of flower this is?”

Dimitri shakes his head.

Dedue looks at the flower with great fondness. “This is a Duscur Rose. In Duscur culture, it is given to the one you love as a symbol of undying devotion. I grew a plot in the greenhouse hoping that one day, I could offer it to you. But to my surprise, you gave me one first.” He reaches up and weaves the flower into Dimitri’s garland, and once more Dimitri gets to enjoy the feeling of Dedue’s hands in his hair.

“I-Is that so?” Dimitri responds. “I admit I did not know this flower had so much meaning behind it when I added it to the bouquet. But it does accurately reflect my sentiments.” Dimitri carefully reaches into the bouquet, picks out another Duscur Rose, and tucks it behind Dedue’s ear. The red color makes Dedue’s hair look even more silvery and beautiful in the moonlight. “In that case, consider this an emblem of my undying devotion to you.”

Dedue tucks a strand of loose blond hair behind Dimitri's ear. “My heart is yours, Dimitri. I love you, too.”

Dimitri feels his head spin. _Did I hear that correctly?_ he wonders. _Did he really say…he loves me? He really feels the same way?_ He touches the Duscur Rose newly woven into his flower garland and slowly comes back to reality. When he does, Dedue is still looking at him with his kind eyes and caring smile, and it sets his heart on fire anew. “Dedue…Thank you.” Dimitri caresses Dedue’s cheek, puts his other hand on Dedue’s shoulder, and closes the gap between them once and for all. He tilts his head up and shuts his eye and kisses the man he is so grateful for, the man he loves with all his heart. Dedue’s lips are perfect. He can feel the scar running down the side of his mouth just as Dedue can probably feel the scars over the clothes on Dimitri’s back, where his hands now lovingly hug him. Reminders of sacrifices they have made for each other and would make again without reservation.

When they separate, Dimitri slowly opens his eye and looks up at Dedue. His face is glowing and his eyes are glistening, as Dimitri soon realizes, with tears. Seeing that brings fresh tears to Dimitri’s eye as well, and he ends up crying softly into the crocheted scarf yet again. But these are not tears of sadness. These are tears of joy from actualizing something more than nine years in the making. He is in pure bliss being wrapped in Dedue’s strong arms, flower bouquet _still_ resting in Dedue’s elbow, relieved with the knowledge that their love is mutual and reciprocated. The tears soon stop, but they stay in each other’s arms making up for lost time. It is such a soothing hold, and Dimitri’s heartbeat finally calms down.

Then he hears the sound of footsteps running away and a voice shouting “They kissed! They kissed!” from somewhere not too far in the distance. Cheers and applause break out from somewhere close by, too. Dimitri’s heartbeat shoots right back up and he panics, thinking he is hearing the voices of the dead again, but Dedue must have heard them too since he immediately pulls Dimitri behind him and draws his sword toward the direction of the noises on instinct. Strangely enough, the first voice sounded like it belonged to someone very much alive. “Annette?” Dimitri calls out with a confused and trembling voice.

“Uh oh, busted,” he hears the voice say from a distance. The footsteps then grow louder as someone runs back towards them, and sure enough, Annette appears from behind the castle wall with a big smile, smoothing her skirt and trying to appear innocent. “Sorry, I really didn’t mean to spy on you two! And we didn’t mean to startle you either. We’re all just really happy for you!”

“We?” Dimitri questions.

Ashe pops out from behind the wall and stands next to Annette. “You two have done so much for us that we wanted to find a way to thank _you_. We saw the cleaned dishes in the kitchen, so we figured you had finished dinner and we were on our way to find you, but we didn’t realize we would catch you in the middle of…um…this.”

Dimitri looks to Dedue, a step in front of him with a brandished sword and flower bouquet _still_ in his elbow. Not to mention the wreath of flowers atop Dimitri's head. What a sight. He can’t believe any of this is happening.

Dedue finally sheathes his sword. “You do not need to thank me,” he replies. “You supported His Majesty – Dimitri – and that is thanks enough.”

Mercedes appears next. “But we wanted to do something special! You deserve it, after all. We prepared a little surprise for you both, and I think it will be even better knowing your meeting ended with such a happy confession. We were hoping it would. Would you mind following us?”

Dimitri stands there stunned, breathing heavily from the exhilaration of his first kiss and the shock of the unexpected presence of his friends. “I am not sure my heart is equipped to take any more surprises tonight. But I suppose I can try to handle one more.”

Dedue turns to face him. “I will be by your side should your heart give you any troubles,” he says.

Dimitri looks up at him and smiles, amusement in his voice. “If my heart can sustain kissing you, I believe it can sustain any challenge this world gifts me.”

Annette waves and beckons for them to follow her, so Dimitri holds out his hand, Dedue takes it, and they walk towards whatever surprise is in store for them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading this far! The next chapter is the last one - let's see what their friends have planned for them!


	10. "Your Dimitri"

Dimitri and Dedue follow Mercedes, Annette, and Ashe to a small, secluded clearing on the castle grounds surrounded by lush pine trees. There, they are met with the familiar faces of many of their former Garreg Mach classmates and allies jumping and clapping as if the Kingdom has secured another victory. Around them, twinkling lights hover in the air in a large circle – it appears someone has cast light magic to do it – making the whole area look breathtakingly ethereal, like they are surrounded by stars. Toward the back of the clearing, a table and two chairs are set with a vase of red flowers ( _Are those…Duscur Roses?_ Dimitri wonders), two teapots, two teacups, and a mountain of sweets.

“Congrats, you two,” Sylvain says from a chair set up next to his friends, leg still bandaged from his injury.

“To be honest, I’m surprised _Felix_ confessed his feelings before _you_ did, but I am happy all the same,” Ingrid admits. Standing behind Sylvain’s chair with his arms crossed, Felix fixes her with a glare.

“Nice work there, kiddo,” Catherine says, Thunderbrand attached to her belt and her uninjured arm slung around Shamir’s shoulder. “I’m impressed you didn’t fall flat on your face.” Shamir nods silently next to her.

“I will pray to the goddess that you may always be together,” Marianne says, holding a violin for some reason. “Oh, and, um, that flower crown looks very becoming on you.”

“We are pleased of this information,” Petra comments. “You and Dedue have good hearts.”

“Yes,” Dorothea agrees, her arm linked through Petra’s. “And to celebrate such a joyous occasion, I think a dance is in order.”

“A dance?” Dimitri and Dedue ask in unison.

“Since you didn’t get to dance together at the Garreg Mach ball, we thought it’d be nice to let you make up for lost time and dance now!” Annette explains.

“And afterward, we have tea and cookies set up that you can enjoy,” Mercedes adds. She motions to the table and chairs. “Privately, I promise.”

This is all too much. Dimitri can’t believe his friends have organized such a nice surprise for him and Dedue. He has delivered many speeches as king since ascending the throne, but now, he is so moved that he can hardly string his words together. “I wish I had the eloquence to express how touched I am by the level of thought you all put into this,” he says, addressing the crowd.

Dedue nods. “I feel the same. Thank you.”

“No need to thank us,” Ashe says. “We put this together to thank _you_.”

“I hear a lot of talking, but I don’t see a lot of dancing,” Dorothea says. She unhooks her arm from Petra’s and takes Dimitri and Dedue’s hands, leading them to the center of the clearing. She positions them to face each other and grabs the bouquet from Dedue’s arm. “I’ll hold onto this for the time being.” She peeks inside of it. "Duscur Roses? How romantic!" 

Dimitri gets nervous very quickly. “I am afraid people will not want me as their king after seeing my lack of skill in this endeavor.”

“Nonsense,” Dorothea whispers to him. “It’s just like I taught you. You did great when we practiced together.”

Dimitri sighs. “Dedue, I apologize in advance if I trip over my own feet.”

“It is quite alright. I will catch you if you are about to fall.”

“I know,” Dimitri says. Dedue has always been there to catch him when he is about to fall. “Shall we?” He awkwardly puts his hands in front of himself, trying to get into a dancing position.

Dedue nods. He takes Dimitri’s waist in one hand, and Dimitri immediately feels heat shoot through his side. Then Dedue laces his fingers through Dimitri’s, and it’s a good thing Dedue’s hold is so solid, otherwise Dimitri thinks he might fall immediately based on how shaky his legs are. Dimitri places his other hand on Dedue’s shoulder as Dorothea taught him, but he feels himself trembling from how new all of this is. Sure, he danced with fellow classmates at the Garreg Mach ball out of duty all those years ago, but this is different. He has never danced with someone he just confessed his love to.

“Musicians! Take your places!” Dorothea calls out. Annette hops next to her and stands up straight with her head held high. Marianne walks over to the other side of Dorothea and rests her violin on her shoulder, bow in playing position.

Dorothea gives a cue, and Marianne begins to play a familiar waltz – Dimitri had no idea she could play the violin, and so beautifully at that. Dorothea and Annette join in with harmonized vocals. He knows he has heard this tune before, but he can’t quite place it. To be fair, his brain is having a hard time processing anything except Dedue’s hold on him. Dedue begins leading him in a waltz to the pace of the music, but he is making very small movements and moving stiffly. Dimitri is similarly rigid due to nerves, trying desperately to focus on his footing so as not to make a mistake.

“I believe this is the song that played during the Garreg Mach ball,” Dedue says, breaking the initial awkwardness.

So that’s why Dimitri recognized it. “Indeed it is.” He suddenly feels wistful remembering the night of the ball, dancing courteously with the other attendees, watching Dedue stand guard out of the corner of his eye. “How I wish I could have danced with you that night.”

Dedue pauses his dancing for half a moment, seemingly caught off guard by Dimitri’s statement, before he resumes moving. “The past cannot be changed,” Dedue comments. “But we are dancing now.”

 _Yes_ , Dimitri thinks. _We are dancing now, and we can dance together again. It is no use dwelling on an unchangeable past – only what can be mended for the future._

As the song progresses, they grow more surefooted and their movements become more fluid. They fall into rhythm and get more in sync with one another, so Dimitri takes a moment to stop obsessing over the technical aspects of the waltz and instead focus on what it actually feels like to dance with Dedue. It’s like floating on air. The same strong, calloused hands that can wield the heaviest of axes now hold Dimitri so tenderly. He remembers Annette quipping how he should hold Dedue’s hands sometime if he’s so mesmerized by how gentle they appear. She was right. It feels like his fingers belong laced in Dimitri’s. His other hand leads Dimitri by the waist so gracefully that it feels like gliding through water. It warms him so much that the cool Faerghus wind breezing through his hair does not bother him at all.

He looks up at Dedue, and perhaps that was a mistake, because it sets his heart ablaze. He sees soft teal eyes looking back at him, and he knows that no arrow could ever pierce his heart the way that look does. He is so in love.

Still, there is a nagging thought at the back of his mind that he needs to take care of. So he lowers his voice in hopes that only his dancing partner will hear what he says next. “Dedue, I want to be absolutely certain that your feelings are not reciprocated out of obligation. That this is what you truly want. You deserve to live your life the way you see fit, not because you feel like you are bound by duty to do something.”

“This is what I want. This is what I have chosen,” Dedue whispers back, sending a shiver of relief down Dimitri’s spine. “I never could have imagined a joy like this, Your Majesty.”

“CALL HIM DIMITRI!” the spectators yell, startling them both before Dimitri even has the chance to correct him. So much for thinking he could be discreet. The two share a smile anyway.

The song ends in a final, hopeful note, and everyone around them claps. Dimitri and Dedue slowly separate and join their former classmates in giving the musicians a round of applause.

“Thank you, thank you,” Dorothea says with a wave and a bow.

Annette winks. “All that choir practice paid off, don’t you think?” 

“That was a wonderful treat,” Dimitri says to all. “I appreciate what it took to put this all together. I felt like I was really at the ball again.” He turns back to Dedue. “I had no idea you were such a skilled dancer.”

Dedue shakes his head. “I was not before Dorothea recently instructed me.”

“Is that so? Dorothea recently instructed _me_!”

They both turn to Dorothea, who cups her cheek in her hand and smiles. “I _might_ have been keeping the intention of those lessons a secret so as not to ruin the surprise,” she replies.

Dimitri grins. “You have saved us from utter failure yet again, Dorothea. Thank you.”

Dorothea waves a hand in the air. “Don’t mention it. I’ll do anything to make sure a love story gets its happy ending.”

Mercedes walks up to them. “You must have worked up an appetite after all of that dancing. Please, have a seat and enjoy some cookies and tea,” she says, gesturing to the table and chairs. “There’s a pot of ginger tea and a pot of chamomile. I just heated them up with a fire spell, so they should be nice and warm.”

“We baked, like, a zillion cookies, so if you finish the plate, just call for me and I’ll bring you more,” Annette adds.

Dimitri looks at all of his friends and feels so lucky for their support and their generosity. "I would not be where I am today without the compassion you all showed me, even in times when I believed I would never ascend from the darkness of war and destruction," he tells them. "As your king, I promise to lead Fódlan down a better path - the path you all helped me reach." He gently loops his pinky finger around Dedue's, who bristles at first, but then curls his finger so it's properly around Dimitri's. "And, on a very personal note, thank you for bringing me closer to the one I cherish." 

“I too am grateful for your kindness,” Dedue says to the crowd. He stands aside and motions towards the table. “After you, Your – Dimitri.” 

Before they sit down, their friends take turns congratulating them and thanking them for protecting Fódlan (and its king, in Dedue’s case), and Dimitri and Dedue thank them again for orchestrating such a nice surprise. Dorothea returns Dedue’s bouquet and elbows Dimitri in the side, whispering to him that dancing tonight was good practice for special occasions like fancy balls, royal ceremonies, and – as she emphasizes – weddings. Ashe tells them he is glad their story has a happier ending than the original one in _The_ _Tale of Alexandre and Linaro_ , and Dedue commends him for a well-crafted dinner. Ingrid tells them she looks forward to leading the knights and working with them to restore Duscur. Marianne says she often plays her violin to calm the horses and could play it for Dimitri and Dedue any time, which they tell her would be delightful. Catherine invites the two to spar with her and Shamir to prove which couple is the best in a fight. Mercedes and Annette compliment Dedue on the nice scarf he’s wearing, and Dedue thanks them for teaching Dimitri how to crochet it. Felix scoops Sylvain up in his arms, stopping very briefly to share his words of advice: “Don’t sabotage yourself like you always do. Like I always did.” Sylvain agrees and wishes them luck, and then Felix carries him away.

Byleth is the last one in line. When it’s their turn, they touch the red flower tucked behind Dedue’s ear and the matching one in Dimitri’s garland.

“I noticed these flowers are the same ones someone put in this vase here,” Dimitri says, lifting the flower vase overflowing with red blooms off the table. “I just learned tonight that the Duscur Rose signifies undying devotion. Were you aware of that when you helped me arrange this bouquet earlier today? And did you arrange the ones in this vase, too?”

Byleth puts their hand to their chin and looks up to the sky as if deep in thought, then fixes Dimitri with a knowing smile.

Dimitri laughs. “Of course you did. Well, it ended up being an apt choice.”

* * *

Their friends have all made their way back to the castle, leaving Dimitri and Dedue alone again. In the absence of the group, he can more acutely hear the wind rustle through the trees and see the light magic twinkling in the air.

“May I?” Dedue asks as he puts a hand on the teapot filled with chamomile tea.

“Yes, and please allow me to do the same.” As Dedue takes Dimitri’s cup and pours chamomile into it, Dimitri pours Dedue a cup of ginger tea. Mercedes remembered their favorite flavors.

Dimitri takes his teacup and holds it out in front of him. “Cheers.”

Dedue smiles and clinks their cups together.

After taking a few sips in quietness, Dimitri speaks again. “I must say, I did not expect any of this.”

“Nor did I,” Dedue replies.

“These past forty eight hours have been a whirlwind.” Dimitri is hardly hungry again, but he takes a bite of one of Annette’s cookies because she went through the effort of baking them and he knows it will make her happy.

“Yes,” Dedue agrees. He puts a hand over his scarf. “But I am grateful for this whirlwind.”

Dimitri smiles. “I as well. I am still in a happy state of shock. Though I am ready for my heart to begin calming d–”

“I HEARD THE GOOD NEWS!” comes a voice so loud Dimitri and Dedue nearly jump out of their chairs. That booming voice could only belong to one person. Spinning around, Dimitri sees who else but Alois striding towards them. “Congrats, boys! You Blaid- _did_ it! Get it? You _did_ it, but _Blaiddyd_ like His Majesty’s name? Hah!” Dimitri grins. He’s glad Alois still has his cheery disposition in spite of everything they have gone through.

“Thank you, Alois.”

Alois stops at the table and puts his hands down on it. “Next time I go fishing, I’ll catch you the biggest fish in all of Fódlan to celebrate!” he declares. “You like fish, don’t you, Dedue? I’ll prepare the best filet you’ve ever eaten!”

“That is thoughtful,” Dedue answers.

“Well, I just thought I’d come over and wish you well. I also heard Annette baked cookies – mind if I steal one?” His hand is already hovering over the plate.

“By all means, please take some,” Dimitri says as he lifts the plate up to him.

“Don’t mind if I do.” Alois shoves a cookie in his mouth. “Scrumptious!” he exclaims as he crunches down on it. “You two enjoy your tea time – and the rest of your lives together!” He gives Dimitri and Dedue’s shoulders a hearty pat, they thank him for his well wishes, and then he heads back to the castle. Just as Dimitri takes a sip of tea, he sees Alois turn on his heel and shout from a distance, "LOVE THE FLOWER CROWN, BY THE WAY!" Dimitri and Dedue smile at each other in amusement.

And then something happens. A dark weight remaining inside Dimitri cracks and fills with light, and he starts involuntarily laughing, full-bodied and true. He feels so full of adrenaline from the excitement of confessing, from the unexpected surprises his friends planned, and from Dedue reciprocating his feelings. He finally feels like he and Dedue can start living their lives unburdened from the darkness that has always threatened to consume them. It will still be a part of them, Dimitri knows this, but they will be there for each other through the good and the bad.

“May I ask what you find humorous, Your – Dimitri?”

Dimitri takes a sip of chamomile tea hoping it will calm him down. “This has been quite a day. I have only just confessed my love and somehow the entire Kingdom already knows.” He sets the teacup down and gets serious again. “I am sorry, Dedue. I did not intend to draw attention to this until we had more time to discuss it. It is not that I wish to keep it a secret – I would shout from the top of the Oghma Mountains informing all of Fódlan how much I love you. I just wanted to make sure you were comfortable with it all before moving forward.” 

“I do not mind,” Dedue claims. “It is comforting to know we have the support of many in the Kingdom already.”

“Even if we did not, my feelings for you would not change.” Dimitri wants to make that clear. He looks into his teacup and sees his reflection staring back at him. “That aside, it seems like everyone in the Kingdom knew how I felt before I even said anything. I suppose I really put the ‘hopeless’ in hopeless romantic.”

“You are not hopeless. Nor do I feel hopeless in this moment.”

Dedue always knows just what to say to warm Dimitri’s heart. Dimitri gets up and moves his chair next to Dedue’s, sits back down, and takes Dedue’s hand in his. “Good. My hope is that you never feel hopeless. I want you to feel cherished. Forever.” With his free hand, he gently brushes his fingertips over Dedue’s cheek and leans in to kiss him. He feels his flower garland bump Dedue’s forehead as Dedue leans in too. He does not think he could ever tire of the sensation. 

When they part, Dedue readjusts Dimitri’s flower garland, letting his hands card through Dimitri’s hair as he takes a lock of it between his fingers. The tenderness of it all sends a shiver down Dimitri’s spine. “Petra taught me how to braid hair in the traditional Brigid style,” Dedue states. “Your hair is long enough that I could do it for you one day, if you would like.”

Dimitri remembers how his legs turned to jelly when Dorothea suggested that Dedue might make that very offer. “O-oh, I would. Petra taught me the same, so I could braid your hair if you would like that as well.” He dares to sweep his fingers lightly over the Duscur Rose behind Dedue's ear as he works his way to the top of Dedue’s silvery white hair. It feels like silk. “A braid would look very nice here.”

In the twinkling light, Dimitri can see a blush grace Dedue’s features. “I would like that.”

* * *

Once they finish the tea and cookies, they take the tray and place settings back to the kitchens and find Ashe, Annette, and Mercedes hovering around a countertop – the one Dimitri had sliced through earlier that night.

“Ashe, I told you I would take care of that,” Dimitri says.

The three spin around. “Oh! Don’t worry yourself, it’s good as new now.”

“There’s nothing in this world that can’t be fixed,” Mercedes says, and Dimitri is pretty sure she means that as an inspirational metaphor.

Annette grabs the tray and all its accompaniments from Dimitri and Dedue. “I’ll take these. You two can keep the flower vase with all the Duscur Roses.” She hands it over to Dimitri with a smile. 

“We can help with cleaning as well,” Dedue states, but all three shake their heads.

“This night was to thank you, remember?” Ashe says. “Please relax. We can take care of this.”

“Just this once,” Dimitri says.

Mercedes puts a hand on each of their backs and leads them out of the kitchens. “There’s a wonderful fire going in the hearth in the sitting room over here. It has gotten quite chilly outside, so please go warm up in front of it.”

There is indeed a nice fire blazing in the hearth, and Dimitri feels immediate warmth as he enters the sitting room. They take a seat on the cushioned bench in front of it, a small distance between them, with the flower bouquet still resting in Dedue’s arm and the vase with Duscur Roses placed in front of them. Dimitri shivers from the quick change in temperature.

“You are cold, Dimitri. Please, take this.” Dedue rummages through the basket he had retrieved from the kitchen and pulls out his everyday scarf with the Duscur pattern. Being so long, it doubles as a blanket, and he throws it over Dimitri’s shoulders. It feels like being hugged by Dedue himself with his familiar scent in the fabric, and Dimitri shivers again.

“You were out in the night air as well,” Dimitri states. “We will share it.” He holds one corner of the scarf over his side and throws the other end over Dedue’s. Now the small distance has closed, and they sit shoulder-to-shoulder wrapped in warmth. Dimitri feels bold enough to curl in and rest his head on Dedue’s broad shoulder. He feels Dedue’s frame go rigid for a moment, but he soon relaxes and takes Dimitri’s hand in his own.

“Thank you for everything, Dedue,” Dimitri says.

“It has been an honor to be by your side, and it will continue to be so, Your – Dimitri.”

Dimitri gently squeezes Dedue’s hand. “Yes, I am your Dimitri. Now and forever.” Dimitri doesn't always feel at peace with himself, but curled into Dedue, he has never felt such tranquility. He is so grateful his friends helped him get to this point. As he starts unintentionally drifting off to sleep in front of the warm fire, he imagines what the future holds: visiting Duscur with Dedue and seeing its people happy and thriving, cooking dinners for him, sewing him gloves he can use for gardening, planting Duscur Roses everywhere, helping children orphaned by the war together, and side-by-side making Fódlan a better place. Perhaps, one day, he can present Dedue with a ring – not because they need one to solidify what they have together, but in case that is something Dedue would like. He can’t wait to spend the rest of his life making sure Dedue feels loved and cherished. For now, though, he is content just resting their heads together, holding hands, and being warmed inside and out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for sticking with this fic all the way to the end! I hope you enjoyed all the sweetness and softness :) This game with all of its precious characters was a big highlight of 2019 for me, and it feels appropriate to have this last chapter posted on a Deduesday, the very last day of 2019! So, just as Dimitri went around thanking all of his friends in this story, I want to thank YOU for reading it!


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